


Celestia's Star Son Was Shooting... In Her!

by toddhoward314



Series: The Celestia's Star Son Was Shooting... In Her!--Verse! [1]
Category: My Little Pony, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Genre: Ahegao, Anthro, BDSM, Bondage, Celestia - Freeform, Comedy, Consensual Underage Sex, Erotica, F/M, Fellatio, Impregnation, Incest, LuNa - Freeform, Male - Freeform, Mother/Son, Porn, Pornography, Princess - Freeform, Romance, Sex, Sexy, Smut, Talking, Underage Sex, Voyeurism, Whipping, ahegao_face, alicorn, alicorn_pony, crackfic, equine, female - Freeform, horse, inbreeding, incestuous, incestuous_pregnancy, male/female - Freeform, mother - Freeform, mother_son, my_little_pony, my_little_pony_friendship_is_magic, pony - Freeform, pony_oc, romantic, semen - Freeform, sexy_face, sexy_pose, son - Freeform, talk, talking_to_viewer, whip, white - Freeform, white_fur, x-frame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29811615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toddhoward314/pseuds/toddhoward314
Summary: After a very rough time holding the fort in night court, Luna just can't wait to get back to her room and relax and kick back with a nice cup of chocolate milk flavored coffee to help her have a nice, long sleep.The only problem?IT'S FUCKING GONE AND SHE KNOWS WHO TOOK IT! HER STUPID PRANKING SISTER, CELESTIA!So, Luna, really needing her precious caffeine drug, storms off deciding to not only take back her coffee but get dirt on Celestia and her biological and bastard (as in fatherless. He’s actually a good kid) son, Shooting Star, during the tutoring session they have every Friday night.When she arrives there, though, she gets far more than she bargained for.And learns far more than she ever wanted or thought possible about Celestia and Shooting Star.Kinky, sexy, and deeply disturbing things.Things that leave Luna with a choice when she gets back to her room with the evidence.A very difficult choice.One that naturally leads into the obligatory sequel! Yay, Hollywood!
Relationships: Princess Celestia/Biological Son, Princess Celestia/Original Character, Princess Celestia/Original Male Character(s), Princess Celestia/Shooting Star, Princess Celestia/Son
Series: The Celestia's Star Son Was Shooting... In Her!--Verse! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191392
Kudos: 5





	1. Luna's Coffee Quest

“Another night, another migraine.”

With a sigh, Princess Luna slammed the doors to her room shut behind her. Now lacking a care in the world since no prying eyes were upon her then, she scratched the itch that had stalked onto her buttocks halfway through tonight’s court and rendered her time there an absolute pain in the, well, ass. Or rather, an even bigger one that usual.

Simply put, Luna had hated this night’s court. She hated night court in general to be sure. Was absolutely loathe of it. During her millennial banishment to the barren moonscape that was her namesake, she had fantasized long and wondrous dreams about reclaiming all of the power and authority her turn to the darkside had stripped her of, some of them even without throwing Celestia into tartarus and co-ruling with her as she did so long ago and now even considering the effect her Nightmare form had on her. But presently? After her return and being purged of the malignant malevolence that had stained her very soul for so long? After the goings on of this particular night that were so bad she had elected to retire to her quarters at the stroke of midnight, a full five hours earlier than was typical? A long sabbatical back to the sea of tranquility eked ever closer to the tippy top of her itinerary.

Perhaps it was her advanced years and her everpresent pining and nostalgia for ye olden times, but back in her day, she could never recall too many of the ponies that came to beseech her in court being A) So desperate and pleading and melodramatic about their woes they wished rectified by the crown and B) So… so… petty and frivolous! Seriously! Luna knew she’d probably sound like an old, batty codger if she ever voiced these concerns to anyone, and while that would be fitting given the hand and hoof she had in the genesis of the batponies, even the most miserable, most lowly of peasants _back in her day_ had never asked her to send in royal guard troops to hang and execute a stallion and his entire family, burn their house and all other of their worldly possessions down, and crucify their gold fish’s privates… all for the simple supposed _crime_ of mowing the lawn late at night. No peasant back during the prime of her reign would ever DARE ask something so abusive and wanton of her authority, and certainly not while she sat squirming from a bitch of an itch on her left ass cheek! And it had been a noble that had asked something so heinous this night of her! To another noble!

The nerve!

The cheek!

The audacity!

The aching in her teeth left via clenching them so hard in anger and the yearning to just scratch her gluteus maximus as maximally as she could!

She was a princess, and this not one quick to or that often sullied her hands by way of fisticuffs, particularly since being a super magic telekinetic was OP as shit and thus she often let her horn do all the talking for her, but that haymaker she had delivered to that craven beast prancing around as _nobility_ had felt good indeed. Truly, the only bit of significant, relaxing pleasure she had or would receive tonight.

Well, maybe not the _only_ bit.

There was, after all, a steaming mug of her favorite coffee blend to consider.

Other ponies, namely her sister, might have considered it a might strange that coffee of all things calmed her down enough to be a sleep aid when it tended to the opposite to its imbibers by its very nature, but Luna supposed she had always been wired a little differently than most. The stimulating caffeine in the drink helped her focus to narrow away from what vexed her and onto what soothed her. Her luminous luna and sparkling stellae against the tenebral tapestry of her marvelous night. The crickets playing their lulling concierto of chipping as though all of equestria was their audience and in dire need of their delicious white noise to fall aslumber. The fact that she could sleep drooling like a dog for twelve hours straight now without anypony bothering her and scratch her derriere like it would reveal the magic ponyball lottery numbers like there was no tomorrow without any of the tabloids making up stories about her!

“Oh yes…” she shivered in satisfaction, having finally terminated the existence of that wretched itch once and for all so thoroughly not even its soul remained to be possibly resurrected into a body to take up arms against her once more.

As she walked towards her own personal pantry, she took heart that however rough her night had been up till that point, short as her time performing her appointed duties was, the trajectory could only point upwards with no more sudden dips or outright nadirs left to go.

And then she opened the pantry and found that her special blend of coffee wasn’t there.

“The flying buck!?”

After her initial flight into apoplectic outrage, Luna got hold of and scolded herself for her outburst. After all, a princess, even in private, even on the privy, wasn’t allowed to stain their lips by spewing forth curses since it was no bodily annoyance or reaction and was something considered to be well within the control of anypony, not just royalty. Besides, maybe her unique _cafe magnifique_ wasn’t missing at all and she had merely misplaced it in her old age and would find it certainly if she merely took a breath and stilled herself.

But even after doing that, she still couldn’t find it. Even after doing it again, she still couldn’t find it. And again. And again. And again. And again. And Again. And again. And again. And--

“Where the BUCK is it!?” Luna yelled, now lying in a puddle of the assorted food and foodstuffs and drink she kept there. Except, of course, that stupendous coffee blend.

As she grabbed onto her head and pulled at her mane, Luna screamed, writhing in a temper tantrum as a filly much the younger would.

“It was chocolate milk flavored! CHOCOLATE! **MILK!** I never had the good shit like that! Never!”

Indeed, prior to her return to modern equestria, she never had. Back in her day, coffee was just first coming onto _the scene_ as Celestia had told her kids _these_ days were fond of saying, and whilst it could taste good whilst doused with sufficient sweetcream and sugar to give Pinkie Pie a heart attack from the type-two diabetes, to a younger Luna, it tasted like dung. Dragon dung. Don’t ask her how she knew how _that_ tasted like, but it did, even to this day. Hence why her relationship with coffee was always, fittingly enough, _bittersweet_ until the day her miraculous, special chocolate milk flavored blend strode into her life. From that red letter day onwards, she loved coffee. She breathed coffee. She needed coffee in her life to get through the simple act of being her always and forever, even after she died! No till death do us part bullshit for her where coffee was concerned!

“Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee,” Luna muttered to herself en repititio, arms crossing over her knees as she shook back and forth and side to side on the marble tile like a drug addled druggie fixing for a fix.

Drugs, drugs, drugs, drugs, dru--

“Ahhhhh!” she yelled, a powerful flap of her wings bringing her back to her hooves. “Think, Luna! Think, think, think! Moping around and sulking and screaming shall avail you naught well! Not now!”

She started a pace, stomping bouncily betwixt the foot of her bed and the doors like some navy blue, mare shaped ping-pong ball.

“What fate could have possibly befallen my dearly beloved!?” she questioned aloud. “Where could it possibly have skedaddled off to!? Why am I skipping as I pace!? Why am I asking myself all these questions as though I know when the whole point is that I know not!? Uhhhh!”

With one final bounce, Luna land[er]ed front first onto her bed, face first onto a pillow and shrieked into it for a solid six seconds straight. But then abruptly, her head came up, eyes puffy from crying but also wide from epiphany.

“Celestial! Eureka! That’s it! She must know!” Her look darkened. Quieter, conspiratorially so, she said, “Oh ho ho ho ho ho does _she_ know. I’ll bet bottom bit, my own stock in the kingdom that _she_ knows very well where my blend is, because _she_ stole it from me! Stole. My. Coffee. From. **ME!** ”

Somewhere in her chemically dependent mind, Luna second guessed herself and attempted to rationalize what motive her sister would have in stealing her special coffee blend. She did not take long, however, before memories of the many pranks Celestia had pulled on her in her younger years all the way up to her turn to the darkside came flooding back to her mind like a tsunami of sewer water most shitty. Nevermind the fact that Celestia’s pranks were always far more ambitious in scope and far less petty and mundane as simply snatching consumables from her. Nevermind that Celestia had sworn an oath not to prank her since her return and had kept to it most admirably for over fifteen years at that point. Celestia had all of a sudden decided to cut her covenant in twine out of the blue in a rather lackluster and unentertaining manner and that was that! That was Luna’s story and she was sticking to it!

After another good REEing session, Luna swore eternal vengeance upon her sister and her seed and that she would get Even Stevens with her by a prank of her own if it was the last thing she did!

After heading to Celestia’s room and preparing herself to grovel at her hooves if need be to get her special blend back so she could actually hatch a sufficiently hairbrained scheme in the first place, but still, vengeance would be hers!

And she’d get her special blend of coffee back no matter what or who attempted to try and tie her down on the way!

…

…

Narrator: That’s called foreshadowing.

* * *

After closing the doors to her room hard enough to rattle the entirety of her own personal wing of the castle, and give every guard there a heart attack of the like much older and less healthy stallions suffered, Luna stormed off out of that section of the palace towards that of her sister, each scornful step actualizing a localized earthquake Canterlot seismologists measured a good 4.0 on the Ritter Scale, or equivalent to some 6 tons of tnt going off at ground level for all you nerds out there.

Considering this, it came as no surprise to Luna that when she rounded the corner to the entry hallway that lead into Celestia’s wing, the cadre of guards assigned to protect that area had taken a phalanx formation, all spears drawn and pointing towards her, half their faces grim with resolve to fight the giant monster they had thought had entered the palace grounds with dark designs on their monarch and the other half looking they were just shy of shitting their battleskirts.

When it finally clicked in their adrenaline and testosterone soaked brains that it was just her, their stances slackened, some even sighing and giving audible prayers in relief, which was good news for Luna.

There’d be less blood for the maids to clean up.

“Captain,” Luna said to the ranking officer present, “Forgive the startling nature of my approach, but I would have words with my sister. Very choice and important ones at that. So if you and your men would kindly step aside, I would be most--”

“Forgive me, Princess Luna,” the Captain said, bowing his head in reverent deference, “but we cannot oblige.”

“What?” Luna asked curtly as she did darkly. “Whyever not!?”

“It is friday, your highness. Princess Celestia is having her weekly tutoring session with Prince Shooting Star and has asked us to make sure nopony enters into her personal wing. Including yourself.” The Captain had the good sense to at least nod his head politely at her. “I am sorry.”

Were this any other night, Luna might have dallied a little longer in wonderment, trying puzzle out why on earth a mere tutoring session between Celestia and her son would warrant her locking down her entire wing and not just her room with even the guards typically guarding her room present here with all the other guards typically guarding the exterior of the wing. Such speculation ceased, however, when she settled on the strong possibility that this tutoring session might well have been the primary motivation for Celestia stealing her special brew, pranking being a mere, if delectable, bonus. Normally, this might have abated her anger somewhat, as anything to benefit her nephew’s education was paramount and understandable, but this time it only served to take her from zero to rip-roaring pissed even faster. She could have at least asked before taking her shit to keep the two of them awake as they worked well into the night! Her good shit at that!

“No. You are not,” Luna replied to the Captain, looking like she was fixin’ to pimp slap the shit out of him. “But if you insist on keeping my sister from hearing the very important news I bring, you _will_ be.”

As the menace in her words hung in the air, most of the assembled cadre all got wobbly knee’d and started quaking in their bronzen boots. Only the Captain managed to both stand and weather Luna’s withering glare admirably.

“Order are orders, princess. Take it up with your sister when she’s done. Again, I’m sorry.”

Even more annoyed as his obstinance rendered her, Luna had to admit that the new captain Celestia had chosen for her half of the royal guard had quite the backbone and stiff upper lip to resist her as he was doing. Shining Armor, for the brief time she had caught him going about his duties after his return before he had been wedded off to Princess Cadance and the guy promoted to his place afterwards never had such intestinal fortitude whenever Luna demanded an audience with her sister. Granted, Luna was still not all there so to speak and adjusting to modernity for the longest time, but still. All she had to do was ask, sadly, normally, angrily, it didn’t matter, and Shining and the other guy were like putty in her hands. Why, in the case of Shining Armor, she sometimes liked to joke that if he ordered him to bed her, he’d say _How often?_ rather than reject such a hypothetical advance!

But this new captain was different. When ordered to dig his heels in by Celestia, he wouldn’t pull his hooves out of the dirt unless ordered otherwise no matter the vastness of the oncoming host arrayed against him.

In virtually any other context, most of them anyways, Luna would have found this loyalty and commitment to duty a stupendous quality to have.

Such as things were, she was mad he had forced her to resort to the rank pulling game. “Flash Sentry, I am not sure if you are aware of the significant political shifts and going on in Equestria in the past fifteen years, but in that time I, _Princess_ Luna have been reinstated as Co-Regent of the country. As in, Celestia and I share executive power and authority over ALL subjects of the crown.”

“So I take it then that you’re _ordering_ me to step aside? _Captain_ Flash Sentry asked.

“Well, I am certainly not ordering you to finally stop pussyhoofing around and propose to Princess Sparkle like a _real man_ ,” Luna said, arms crossing over her bosom, venom dripping down her teeth. Proverbially of course. Her Nightmare form had long since passed, remember.

“Well good, because I wouldn’t want to anyways!”

“Well good! I shall be sure to tell her!”

“Good! And while you’re at it, tell her she’s ugly and I never want to see her stupid face again because Last Hearth’s Warming with her folks was mad boring!”

“Good! Shall do!” Luna pulled forth the tape-recorder she had been carrying betwixt her cleavage and held it up high for all to see. “Or better yet, mayhaps you would prefer to tell her yourself, good captain?”

She thumbed the play button, repeating every horrible thing she had goaded him into saying about Twilight even though the object of his ire was truly Luna herself, savoring every moment of his face going pale in abject horror with a cheshire grin.

“The miracles of technologica modernica, my good captain,” Luna said with all the smugness she could conjure.

His ears pressing flat against his head making him look like a pathic, whipped puppy, a pussy whipped one, Flash Sentry said, barely above a whisper, “Please don’t tell her that.”

“Permit my passing, and I shall seriously consider it.”

“If Twi catches wind of this, even _if_ I explain to her that it was a hundred percent taken out of context by you, I’ll never hear the end of it!”

“Permit my passing,” Luna calmly repeated, hand pressed against her hips, “and I shall seriously consider _it_.”

As much flak as she gave and was giving him, Luna was most inenvious of the precarious position she had pushed him to. Loyalty to royalty supreme that had given him his office and posting and trusted him dearly or loyalty to the royalty he’d been dating for over a decade because he was afraid of the commitment that came with taking things to the next level? Trapped betwixt rock and hard place. The ultimate no win dilemma.

But coffee that good to Luna demanded extreme sacrifice and inconvenience, especially to those around her. Exclusively, even if she could arrange. And if that meant resorting to blackmail and potentially ruining her dear friend Twilight Sparkle’s marriage prospects, well tough shit. If Flash Sentry liked it, he should have put a ring on it already.

“Fine,” Flash Sentry finally acquiesced in annoyance. “Just… just promise me you’ll keep your end of the bargain, _Co-Regent Princess Luna_.”

Buck yes! Success!

Coughing into her first to hide how elated she was at this development, Luna put the tape recorder back in her cleavage and strutted towards the doors, the guards parting out of her way. She opened them, and before entering Celestia’s wing, turned back to Flash Sentry and said, “As I said, I shall _seriously_ consider it.”

She walked in, and with a gentle application of her magic, the doors to Celestia’s wing closed quietly behind her.

* * *

With a gentle application of her magic, the doors to Celestia’s room opened silently before her. Or rather, the first set of doors. Much like with Luna’s own room or that of Prince Shooting Star, the room had two sets of doors. Beyond the first, where Luna was no, was a little lounge of sorts with a plush pench on either side that were super useful for last minute adjustments to one’s foot-wear without having to walk back into the room to make them comfortably. Beyond that were the doors that lead into the room proper.

On the stoll over through the wing, Luna had been wondering if she should try sneaking into Celestia’s room proper to get her special blend back from under her big, sundrenched nose when voila! There it was! That familiar, wondrous, cheap plastic container labeled: _Foalger’s Cocomoo Coffee Blend!_ Leaning against the wall to her left like some hunky stallion that had been waiting patiently and sexily for her.

Luna was, pardon the wholly intentional and unashamed pun, over the moon!

Faster than Rainbow Dash and all the other Wonderbolts combined via multiplication instead of simple arithmetic, Luna jumped on the coffee can, picked it up, and pressed it against one side of her face, rubbing her cheek against it as though it were some long lost and phenomenal lover. She neighed, brayed, oinked, mooed, and even barked, strangely enough, her sheer pleasure and satisfaction.

“Oh, how mother missed you, my sweet,” Luna cooed before kissing the running her tongue over the coffee can as though it were made of what lay inside.

Luna collapsed onto one of the soft benched, already feeling so relaxingly drowsy just from the mere presence of her special blend. After all she’d been through at court and the shock and disappointment of not having it readily on hand to take away the pain and make it all better, now that it was within her grasp, Luna felt like she could fall asleep right then and there her mind was clear of its accumulated dross.

And she would have too. If such clarity had not also reminded her of and given her back the will for revenge. The ginormous grainery wheels of Luna’s mind began to grind. Possible payback machinations started to flitter forth across the eyes of her imagination. She was right there, she said to herself, a mere two doors distant from Celestia’s room. Celestia herself was tutoring her beloved little boy who, while scholastically tenacious, had always had trouble in certain subjects that only worsened with time the more advanced the material got, leading many in the ponyrazzi to conclude he was all bulk and no brains and setting a high price for photographic or otherwise ironclad proof of this ludicrous assertion. Luna still held the tape recorder within her bosom. Luna knew how to edit whatever it was her tape-recorder recorded. Her magical magical signature was one of the only three in Equestria that could open the doors to Celestia’s innermost sanctum. And, being Equestria’s official spymaster, Luna was more than adroit enough at planting bugs.

It took her less than ten seconds flat to figure out her plan of attack. Five to convince herself that the terrible betrayal of sororal trust she was about to commit was totally, one hundred percent right, okay, and justified. Three to open the doors as covertly as she cared with her magic while maintaining her grip on her coffee with her hands. One to slip her head inside to ensure the coast was clear.

And a half second for her jaw to drop along with her special blend and for her gaze to go wide as the sights and sounds that greeted her in Celestia’s room stole her breath away.

In more manners than one.


	2. Celestia's Star Son Whips Her Into Shape... And then Coffee and Donuts

Prince Shooting Star had been something of an enigma to Luna in the immediate aftermath of her return. Born but a month before, he had been the toast of the town, the nation entire, even, and by Luna’s calculus had taken quite a bit of the wind out of the sails of her coming back given the two events and celebrations happened so close together. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t more than a tad peeved that everypony remained far more concerned with the birth of the first male alicorn in existence and that Celestia had sired him out of wedlock, which was just the diarhead icing on the whole shitcake.

But, after settling into her reclaimed role of co-regent of the kingdom and having her fill of chewing out Celestia for her boneheaded decision, which her sister to her credit freely admitted without resistance was not her most morally and ethically sanctionable move, Luna would also be lying if she said she too wasn’t swept up in the Shooting Star fever that dominated the zeitgeist then. Her interest was both as a loving, doting Auntie and out of simple, if intense, curiosity.

I mean, he was just so cute and adorable! How could anypony with a heart, even one as jaded and cynical as Luna’s, stay mad at such a sweet and gentle little floofball? It wasn’t his fault for stealing her thunder and though how he was conceived was a mistake, yes, the little princelet could hardly be blamed for coming into the world a bastard, the blame resting squarely on Celestia’s and his unknown father’s shoulder. A father whom Luna had spent more time than she;d care to admit trying to piece together the identity of with less to go on than any other investigative task she had undertaken.

She was Equestria’s spymaster, yes, and Celestia gave her considerable freedom, but out of respect, she had never called upon those resources and was thus left with her own intellect and intuition the palace staff around at the time of conception that themselves didn’t have a clue and if they were lying would have made excellent agents they were so convincing.

The doting Auntie angle, though, was the main crux of her concerns over Shooting Star as time went on, for as the years flew by, his sweet and gentle appearance and nature had not abated, but had in fact grown just as he grew in her eyes. Yes, technically, he was considerably bigger and bulkier than the average colt his age at whatever age he was since he was three, and may have seemed more threatening and less endearing to strangers from afar because of it, but one good close-up look at that cherubim baby face and an hour spent conversing with the lad would have dispelled such a notion that he would be quick to harm a horsefly even with ample cause.

Why, even now, at fifteen years of age, his was such a dove-line, innocent countenance and presence that his preferred method whenever he took to the field for hoofball team of Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns involved him ducking, jumping, bobbing, weaving, and even ballerina twirling in order to actively avoid contact and conflict with the opposing team not because of good tactical acumen in so much as physically being hurt and hurting others, even for good port, was something was quite averse to, anathema to him, even. Particularly since, being the utter stud he was, it was more likely most of the other colts would hurt themselves just by running into him.

In even more defiance of typical colt-like behavior for those his age with all the realized and possible power and authority he commanded, he was absolutely clueless concerning the wiles of the opposite and fairer sex. The number of girls she had counted in her conversions with she had realized had a thing for him but that he thought were just weird or eccentric if he thought anything at all was out of the ordinary exceeded both sets of her fingers thrice-fold, and he was supposed to be on the honor roll for his mother’s sake!

All that was to say that, going into Celestia’s room that night, Luna had some fairly established and strongly reinforced preconceived ideas of what her nephew dearest and would ever likely be capable of.

All of which shattered the moment she saw him, completely in the buck save for an admittedly generous loincloth that at least left quite a bit to the imagination, whip in hand, striking away at the supple buttocks of his own mother as she stood in all her regal dress, hands and feet bound within the shackles of an X-frame. Quite a bit of what Luna had thought and known and thought she knew about her sister also flew out the window and cannonballed onto the cold, callous cobblestone below when Luna then realized…

…that Celestia was _loving every second of it_.

* * *

“Ooooo! Ooooo!” Celestia moaned in between smacks of the whip, panting like a bitch in the throes of heat season. “That’s it, Star! That’s the ticket! Harder! Faster! More, more, more!”

“Anything for you, mom!” Shooting Star replied with a brief, lecherous grin that faded to one of very real concern. “Just, promise me you won’t get mad and take it out on me later like you’ve been doing since last time, please?”

“What? Ooooo! What are you--OH YES--talking ABOUOOOWT?”

“It’s just that, well, ever since our last _tutoring session_ , every time we’ve ran into each other, you’ve been kind of, sort of, pinching me in the butt, so you’re obviously upset.”

“That? No. I’m not--Ooooo!--upset. I’ve been doing--THAHHHT--because you’re my LOOOOOVEEER! Lovers do that sort of THIIING!”

“Oh!” Shooting Star said, stopping his whipping a second and looking at the ground, blushing violently and scratching at his well defined pectorals. “Well, uh, please don’t take this the wrong way, but, you know I’m not into the whole BDSM thing like you are, especially not the whole _masochism_ part, so do you mind if you could just, not keep doing that anymore? Please?”

“What?” Celestia asked, breath heavy as she came down from her heights of pleasure and turned her head to look behind herself as best she could at her son. Then, in the kind of exasperation of barely contained laughter a typical mother would reserve for her child whenever he showcased his innocence in a far more innocent situation, she said, “No, Star honey that’s not a BDSM thing, that’s just a regular, normal, affection thing. It’s just something lovers do sometimes.”

“Oh. Well, uh, do you mind stopping that? While I appreciate the explanation, it still kind of hurts and I don’t like to hurt, you know?”

Celestia lowered her head and chuckled. “Alright. Will do. Would you rather we sneak a make-out session every time we catch each other instead?” she asked jovially, half jokingly, half genuinely.

“Yeah, actually,” Shooting Star said, ears erecting full up. Bashfully rubbing his cheek, he said, “I mean, we’d have to make doubly sure we’re not caught, but it’d be tons better. For the both of us, I think.”

“Very well. As you will it, so shall it be, my special little boy,” she said softly before loudly commanding, “Now hurry up and see to your mommy-princess’s itch, soldier!”

Standing at attention and saluting proudly, Shooting Star said, “Sir, yes sir! I mean mam, yes mam! Commencing operation super butt-scratcher in three… two… one!”

Throwing his arm, and thus the whip held there, back as far as he could, Shooting Star then whipped his mother’s plentiful posterior so hard that not only did the X-frame holding her shake as though a thunderbolt has passed close by, but the entirety of the room as well.

“Ooooo, BUCK YES!” Celestia cried, throwing her head in agonized ecstasy. “BUCK I needed that! I needed that sooo bucking much!”

“Need some more? Because if you’ve already had your fill, I’d totally understand if you wanted me to stop going full power and--”

“Star, baby, I’ve never asked you to stop going full power till you made me cream my panties, so why the buck would I start now!?” Celestia gave a far more apologetic look than what her words suggested. “I’ll be fine, honey. Really, I will. Now stop trying to talk me out of my fetish and me cum so hard I can’t see straight already! Quit the lollygag--”

Another max power whip from her son caused that last word to die off in Celestia’s throat to be replaced by another vast and expansive moan of unbridled sexual indulgence and satisfaction, the whole chamber rattling like a maraca in a giant foal’s grasp. This lewd, sordid scene of whipping, pure verbalized pleasure, and earthquaking continued for some time, somehow lasting for a good five minutes before, with one good, final, hard swing, Shooting Star, now officially having broken out into a sweat as intense as the one sheening his mother, did bring his mother to that ultimate high, that titanic orgasmic thrill she’d been so desperately seeking.

Celestia came. She came hard. To say she came buckets would have simultaneously been over and understatement. Over because, technically, in a strictly physical sense, the amount of feminine jizz that exploded down from her dress and poured down to the marble tile below and trickled down her legs was only enough to fill about one bucket or maybe a bucket and half a big gulp from your local 7-Eleven if you _really_ felt like pushing it. Under because, to Celestia, it very obviously felt _even better_ than if she had cum the literal liters needed to fill multiple buckets. So good, so mind-blowingly, delightfully depraved and debauched was her orgasm’s sinfully delicious sensations that Celestia was left vibrating in the throes of passion so violently and forcefully that he shook her X-frame to pieces, the wood comprising the bulk of its construction snapping and splintering to the size of easily carryable kindling as she face planted to the ground, the metal binds over her hands and feet crumpling like soda cans, and the hemp-rope tying up her wings snapping like slim-jims as those wings extended freely into a glorious wing-boner, and obscene display of wanton arousal.

For a few moments after, Shooting Star stood there, stunned, watching his mother laying there in the junk pile that used to be the X-frame, ass up at him and quivering like the rest of her as her climax simmered. Then, his protective instincts kicking in, he tossed the whip aside as though it were a hot potato, the thing landing on the bed, and dashed to his mother’s side and asked, “Mom! Are you okay!?”

Fortunately for his loudly beating heart, Celestia’s response was as swift as it portended well. She flipped onto her back and with one hand about the band of his loin-clothe, she pulled him down atop her and with her other hand about his neck, pulled his muzzle down to hers for a steamy, soul searing kiss that went on for too long, when they finally broke, they both were left panting for oxygen like fish left on a Saddle Arabian beach for too long beneath the summer sun. Not that either we left unhappy afterwards. Or complaining. Oh not at all.

“Does that answer your question sweetie?” Celestia spoke between breaths.

Her son’s response was only a hair more delayed than his mother’s, Shooting Star tenderly covering her cheeks in the palms of his hands as he grabbed hold and dropped his mouth down upon hers for another amazing kiss. One that, while every bit as romantic as the one before, was might more erotic due to it alternating between outright throat bulging tongue fucking and lew and sloppy Prench kissing in form.

After another full minute, their lips parted again, and Shooting Star said, “Does that answer your answering of my question, mom?”

Celesia let out a dry laugh and rolled her eyes. “Smart ass.”

“Guilty as charged and born and raised. By you.” He leaned down and hugged her tightly and lovingly nuzzled one side of his face against hers. “The grandest mother in all the land.”

Celestia lovingly nuzzled him back. “Kiss ass.”

“If you asked me to.”

Several minutes passed with them just laying there, holding onto and snuggling up against each other in serene silence.

Then, as it so often did at peaceful moments, Celestia’s stomach roared like a lion whose balls were being trampled by an elephant.

Initially surprised to the point he had leapt off of his mother and looked every which way to get onto the intruding big cat that had somehow penetrated the innermost sacred sanctum of the palace, when Shooting Star realized the truth of what was going on, he walked back to her, stood next to her with his hands on his hips, and looked down at her with a wry smirk. “Feeling peckish, are we?”

Blushing in embarrassment in a way that she wasn’t at the concept of having her own son as a lover, Celestia said, “Just a little.”

As if to empathize just how grave an understatement that was, Celestia’s stomach at that moment then growled with the same intensity it had moments before.

Shouting Star’s grin only widened.

Celestia’s blush only brightened.

“Cake time?” Shooting Star asked.

“Actually, I brought donuts today. I hope _you_ don’t mind since I know you’re just as much a glutton for cake as your dear old mom when you wish to be,” Celestia said rather bitingly, but in a way that was obviously in good jest.

“Hey now, no minding here,” Shooting Star said, putting his hands up in mock defense. “Donuts are a good change of pace. Especially since, while I love cake, donuts are WAY better.”

Celestia playfully scoffed. “You’re lucky you’re cute and that you came from me, or I’d send you to tartarus for such blasphemy against the universal proper order of baked goods!”

“Well then, lucky thing that I’m both those things,” Shooting Star beamed, head held high. “So, where are these lovely nuts of dough? Are they Donut Joe’s nuts of dough?”

“In the hotbox in the pantry, and of course they are. Though before you go running off and stuffing your face full--”

“First time I’ve heard _that_ from you.”

“I think we should wait a little longer till the refreshment I’d planned to go along with them are--”

A loud ding like that found on a timer sounded through the room.

“Speak of the caffeinated devil.”

“What was that?” Shooting Star said, getting jumpy again to the point where he jumped down next to his mother’s side and held onto her arm tightly. “Did someone just plant a bomb that’s about to go off!?”

Celestia was none too phased, though. In fact, she laughed at her son’s squirrliness. “I should hope not. For the bomb layer’s sake. Star, honey, that was just the timer for the coffee machine.”

“Coffee machine? So, you’re saying there’s not a honking pack of dynamite with a timer on it somewhere in this room?”

“No, Star,” Celestia said, lovingly pulling her son’s head against her bosom and tenderly stroking his mane. “There are no bombs here. I can personally guarantee it since I sweep this room for those sorts of things everyday myself. We’re safe. _You’re_ safe. I promise.”

Shooting Star didn’t seem all too convinced at first, but after rubbing his face against his mother’s breasts for a while, he calmed down and said, “So, coffee huh? What blend?”

“Cocomoo.”

“It’s from somewhere in the Mareibbean Islands?”

“No. Not _Kokomo_. _Cocomoo._ It’s that chocolate milk flavored coffee that your Auntie is positively smitten by. In fact, I had to _borrow_ the last one in her personal stash because the palace pantries were out of stock.”

“You mean _the good shit_ , as Auntie Luna likes to call it?”

“That’s the one.”

Shooting Star licked his lips and went, “Mmmm. Sounds awesome. But won’t Auntie Luna be supermad if she finds out? I mean, I’m pretty sure she needs that to sleep and who knows how far into the night we’re going to be here?”

“Yes she will and yes she does. But it’s the weekend already which means she has all the time in the world to fall asleep the old fashioned way since we’re off till Monday and, most importantly, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, will it?”

Shooting Star rested a thumb against his chin and gazed aside in thought a moment. “Well, I guess not. But if she find;s out you stole her good shit, don’t tell her you shared it with me, please!”

“I won’t, sweetie. Count on it.” Celestia chastely pecked her beloved son on the lips before spanking him on the rear so forcefully that a sonic boom was created and he was lifted up high enough to the air that when he landed on his hooves his stance was at full attention. “Now get your sexy ass in gear and bring me the coffee and donuts in less than ten seconds flat, soldier! Your mommy-princess commands it!”

Rubbing out the pain in his keister with one hand and giving a crisp salute with the other, Shooting Star said, “Sir yes sir! I mean mom yes mom! I mean mam yes mam!” and stampeded towards the pantry. In less than one twelfth of a minute, he was back standing next to his mother with ten, thin, white cardboard boxes labeled, _Donut Joe’s Famous Donuts_ , a colossal coffee pitcher more like a giant jug, and two ornate wine goblets that were the first and only drinking things he could find on such short notice floating next to him in glow of his magic. Then, he gently lowered all of the assorted stuff to one side of his mother before laying down next to her on the other and giving her a peck on the cheek.

“How’d I do?”

“Five seconds. Half the time I allotted,” Celestia said, looking at the stop watch she had pulled from the mess of books, papers, pencils, and erasers on her bed before tossing it back over there. “Good job.” She gave him a return peck to his cheek. “Now then, let’s chowdown.”

And chowdown they did. Celestia might have liked donuts less than her precious cake and less than her son liked donuts, but looking at the confectionary carnage that ensued, an outside observer, like Princess Luna, would be hard pressed to see much of a difference in the manner the two alicorns did eat. Celestia and Shooting Star DESTROYED the donuts. The coffee too, but mostly the donuts. Like watching piranhas eviscerate a bloated cow carcass it was so graphic and horrific though admittedly it was quite a bit more messy since at least the tiny scary fish of the Amazin River basin were actually very clean and efficient eaters compared to the complete and utter pig-swine that were the elder princess of Equestria and her son. Box after box disappeared in a gory haze of shredded cardboard, dough, glazing, cream, sprinkles, marshmallows, chocolate chips, chocolate, and peanut butter and regular frosting, and various jellies and jams that stained the floor about then, their clothes, and their bodies. To anypony with even a hint of manners or social decorum, it would have been their doomsday and not only lend to them fainting but lead to them fainting, blowing up, and possibly blowing up again though not necessarily in that order. And the coup de grace was that after mother and son had their fill in DESTROYING all but eight of the boxes, they burped so loudly the most high priced stadium stereo system couldn’t even hit an order of magnitude the decibel levels and patted their slightly distended stomachs like a couple of rednecks packing away the grub after a hard day’s work.

“Oh buck,” Celestia said, at least having the common decency to use a toothpick she macgyvered from a plank of wood from the ruined X-frame to clean the bits of fried dough and other shit clinging to her gums.

“You can say that again,” Shooting Star said, toothpick in hand that was also part of the X-frame once upon a time, mirroring his mother’s movements when it came to his own gums.

“I forgot how hungry cumming makes me.”

“And I forgot how hungry holding myself back from cumming makes me.” He guzzled down what remained of his cup of coffee in the wine goblet, not caring that twin trickles of it streamed down from either side of his mouth as he did. “And how thirsty!”

Celestia looked down at his loin-cloth and placed one of her hands on it and gasped melodramatically over her free one. “Oh, my poor, darling baby boy! You’re right! You’re stiffer than all those stone statues I keep in the garden! Stiffer than I’ve ever felt! Oh, did mommy do too good a job at getting you all worked up and excited?” She gently fluffed his member through loin-cloth, eliciting many a pleasured groan and grunt out of her flesh and blood. “Want we should skip some of the build-up and move to more _serious_ activities so that your suffering can finally _cum_ to a _climax_?”

“Ooooo, mommy…” Shooting Star groaned. “Your hand is delightful.” Slowly, with what was apparently great strength and willpower, though, his own hands grabbed hold of his mother’s wrists and pushed them back. “But I don’t think I’m quite ready to leave Foreplay Boulevard and head on down to Pound Town just yet. Slow burn lover and all that, you know?”

Celestia clicked her tongue and huffed, laying back down with her arms crossing over her cream stained (not _that_ kind of _cream_ , ya bloody taffers!) chest. “Phooey. One time I actually WANT a guy to rut me silly like an animal, and _he_ turns out to be the romantic one with the self-control who wants to _take his time_ buttering me and himself up.”

“Well, you are my mom, mom. I could never just rut you like that without taking you out to dinner first, so to speak. You’re way too special.” He kissed her on the cheek and rubbed his face lovingly against it.

As she let out a frustrated but amorous sigh, Celestia said, “Oh Star, honey, why are you so sweet?”

“Well, I guess it’s like you said earlier during the whole donut vs cake thing.” He raised his head and looked deeply into her eyes and through that window, into her very soul. “I came from you.”

Celestia’s eyes watered at that and she sniffled, “That was the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard,” before pulling him into another soul searing kiss with her hands. “You really could have been _Cadence’s son_ , my little star.”

“Ah, but you’re my sun, mother.” Celestia looked at him weirdly before he quickly added, “Sun as in the heavenly body over which every other in the solar system is bound to due to its enormous gravity well, mom.” When Celestia realized what he meant, he continued, “And just like all those planets, and moons, and asteroids, I couldn’t imagine my life not revolving around you, mom.”

Celestia’s tears were now flowing down her cheeks like someone had cranked the faucet all the way. Then, she grabbed her son by the nose and pinched with the sharp and pointy fingernails of her thumb and forefinger till he was bawling his eyes out too.

“Ow! Ah! Mom! Stop it! Please! No! I’m not into BDSM! I told you! And I thought pinching was only supposed to be in the butt between lovers!”

Letting him go and still crying as Shooting Star grabbed onto his nose from the pain she’d inflicted on him, Celestia said, “No, my dear. That wasn’t why I pinched you this time.”

“Then what the tartarus did you do that for, mom!? Seriously!” Shooting Star said, sounding weird and funny from how hard he was holding his nose. “What!? Was that astronomy line the last straw of cheese for you or something.”

“Yes, it was.” She pulled his hands away from his face with her magic and likewise used it to reel him in for another soul searing kiss that went on longer than the first one and was so good that Shooting Star forgot all about the pain his mother had inflicted upon him and lost himself to it just as she did. As they parted, she said, “But you know I love it.”

“Yeah. I’ll say,” Shooting Star said with eyes glazed over with love. “Even when it annoys you, it looks like.”

“Oh, even when it annoys me like eating spiced--” Celestia’s eyes widened. “Wait! That’s it! I just thought of something!”

“What? What kind of healing ointment to use on my schnozz?”

“What? No! Not that! And for the record, suck it up, buttercup.”

“Awww,” Shooting Star said, crestfallen. “It still hurts though, mommy!”

“Well, mommy just thought of a way to make you forget all about your hurts, baby.”

“You have?”

“Oh yes,” she smirked, playing with the tufts of fur and warm butter (no, not _that_ kind of butter. Get your mind out of the gutter, sicko!) on his chest. “A deliciously debauched and sinfully kinky way that’ll make staying on Foreplay Boulevard far more bearable to me and absolutely stimulating for you.”

“Hrmmm. You had my curiosity, but now you have my interest. By the balls, even. And in the good way you can have them by. What’s the plan, Stan?”

“First, let mommy set up the new X-Frame we’ll need since she sort of exploded her old one in her excitement,” she said with a radiant grin and somewhat embarrassed blush.


	3. Literal Food Porn

Using her magic, Celestia opened up her closet and pulled out a shinier, newever, completely metallic X-frame made of what Luna deduced must have been black obsidian based on its dark color and the fact she could just sense the magic nullifying properties of it even from so far away.

“Whoa,” Shining Star said, getting up and running his hand against its slick surface. “Where’d you get this one, mom? It’s so cool! I’ve never seen black obsidian before! Well, in books and in photos from Starlight and Trixie and stuff, but never in real life!”

“You like?” Celestia said, standing up and joining her son in fondling the contraption. “Well, let’s just say a friend of a friend of a friend who’s the third uncle twice removed of the Major Domo of Queen Chrysalis’ Neo-Changeling Empire managed to smuggle this one out of her palace for me.”

“This came from Loyalist Territory!?” Shooting Star asked, mouth agape. “I thought with the embargo Thorax and you placed on them that no goods were allowed in or out. And both our countries are supposed to be pros at countering invasive actions by now!” Shooting Star looked at his mother, frightened. “Are you absolutely, one hundred percent sure that--”

Celestia threw her head and arms up and groaned. “For the last time, Star, there are NO bombs in this room! And just in case, your mind wanders to _that_ place, I’m not a changeling either!” She pulled out an enchanted can of _Braid Bugspray_ labeled _Changeling Begone/Wintergreen Mouth Spray_ with her magic from her closet and grabbed it with her hand. “See?” She sprayed it all over herself, including her arms, legs, face, armpits, legpits, and even inhaled a good bit of it through her nose and her mouth. “Toxic to bugponies, minty fresh breath for everypony else.”

To further belabour her point, she blew a strong kiss to her son who whiffed up the spray and went, “Mmmm, Wintergreen,” brightening up and looking considerably more confident than he did a moment ago.

“I take it that means you’ll stop the scaredly pony routine?”

“Yeah. For the immediate future anyways. But still, that doesn’t really explain how you snuck this thing into Equestria without customs throwing a conniption and looking at you funny.”

“That’s because it was a diplomatic gift.”

“A diplomatic gift? Wow. How’d they figure that one?”

“I’ll regale you with the whole story later, but for right now, be a dear and help your poor old mother up into the fancy, imported X-frame, would you?”

Shooting Star smiled. “I love the way you say that like it’s just the most casual thing in the world for a mother to say to her son.”

“Well, it should be. By now. Now get to it!”

Wasting no more time, Shooting Star carefully and gingerly levitated his mother into position within the X-frame and, with his hands, fastened the metal binds, which were far more numerous as to be kind of redundant but also added to the kinkiness in a way, in place.

“There. All good to go, and might I add looking even lovelier than when we started with the last one. Speaking of, let me just get the last one out of the way while I’m at it.” He levitated the remains of the older X-frame off to a secluded corner of the room. “Now what, mom?”

“Come closer so I can tell you.”

“Come on cum?” Shooting Star asked with a salacious grin.

“Find out.”

Shooting Star did as his mother instructed, putting an ear right next to her mouth as she whispered the rest of her little scheme so low Luna couldn’t hear. “A huh. A huh.” Shooting Star then looked stunned and surprised and backed away from his mother like she had just enlightened him that the way to living a long lasting life, was breathing. “Ooooo, mom. You are one dirty old lady!”

Giggling like a school filly, Celestia said, “I know, right? Don’t you just love it?”

“Much!” Shooting Star said, planting a long, sexual lick from the tip of her muzzle to the top of her forehead. “Now I understand why you stopped when you were about to say _spiced peaches_! That’s one _spicy_ idea you _came_ up with!”

“Why thank you, dear.” Celestia returned the favor with a lick of the same type and duration to her son. “Can’t wait to get my _glazing_ and _cream and sugar_ straight from the tap.”

“Same.”

Shooting Star levitated one of the final boxes of donuts into his hands, pulled out one with strawberry frosting and sprinkles and set the box down. Then, he levitated both his goblet and the coffee pitcher into his hands and poured himself a cup till it was nearly full and placed the pitcher on the ground. Then, and this the hot part so pay attention pervs, he took his donut holding hand, slipped it underneath her skirt, into her dried girlcum soaked panties, and began using the donut as a dildo to fuck his own mother.

And fucker her with that donut dildo he did.

“Ahhh! Oh! Ooooo!” were just some of the horish moans Celestia made in response to her vigorous, pasty penetration.

“Oh man! Just this part is hotter than I thought, mom.”

“Ooooo! You’re--AH!--telling MEEE!”

Celestia came, another bucket and a half a big gulp of her sexual fluids splashing out of her snatch and onto the ground. Only this time, as Shooting Star withdrew his hand and donut, a significant amount of her jism coated both as well.

Treating it as though it were the finest wine, Shooting Star licked his mother’s girlcum clean from his fingers, never breaking eye contact with her as she both moaned as she came down from her orgasm and from how turned on the sight of her own son doing what he was doing left her.

“Mmmm. Tastes just as fiery sweet as I remember it, mom.” He took a bite out of the donut and then moaned and shivered in pleasure as though he were climaxing. “Oh buck! And with this donut, you taste so much better! So much! I didn’t even think that was possible!”

“Told you it’d be wonderful,” Celestia said between pants. “Now keep the orgasm express rolling! I want my head to be drowning in pheromones when this is all over!”

“Aye, aye, mon capitain!” Shooting Star said, saluting with the rest of the donut before swallowing it whole and shivering in near orgasmic delight again.

“That’s ships, dear,” Celestia motherly reproached.

After coming down from her sexual thrill, Shooting Star said, “I know mom, but captain just sounds so much cooler, you know? You ask me, after you pass this big new law of yours, you should totally change the name of conductors to captains to give them the ego boost that comes with the title that might increase efficiency to the point the trains might actually start running on time for once for everypony but us!”

“Huh,” Celestia said, looking as up and to her right as the neck and horn binds on the new X-frame permitted. “You know, I’m not sure why the inventors of trains never thought that one up. What a novel idEAAAHHH!”

“Good,” Shooting Star smirked, another donut, this one coconut shavings covered, jammed firmly up his mother’s foal hole. “Glad you _came_ to the same conclusion.” Just as before, he pumped her full of the donut like his life depended on it.

“Eeee! Yeah! Right there! Oh! These cum puns are getting out of hand!”

“Like your cum does whenever you squirt _because_ of my hand?”

“Stop that! For a young stallion who’s not even finished inside a mare yet, you make way too many dad jokes!”

“Well, way I see it, I’m going to be a father sooner or later, so I figure I might as well get started early, just like you’re going to keep finishing early on these donuts. Because, you know, I’m bucking you with them.”

“Yes! Yes! Ooooo yes! I get the--BUCKING--joooooohke!”

Celestia came again. And then again. And again. And then twice more for good measure Each time, she positively doused the donut her son was using to fuck her and each time he scarfed it down as though it were the most scrumptious thing in all the land and he couldn’t wait.

“Ah! Slap me in the face and call me Auntie Starlight that tasted good!” Shooting Star cried on the last donut, both in the sense that he yelled and was literally left weeping the deliciousness of the donuts mixed with the cum of the mare who birthed him agreed so much with his tongue.

“Now imagine how much better it’ll be with the coffee,” Celestia said, holding together quite well considering her own son had forced her girl-jizz out of her six times in less than ten minutes. “Oh that’s right. You don’t have to imagine.”

“Buck yeah I do!” Shooting Star chirped happily only to frown in confusion. “Wait, is saying _Buck yeah I do_ the right thing to say in that context, or _Buck yeah, I don’t_?”

Celestia groaned in frustration. “Oh, who the fuck cares!? Just hurry up and finger buck me already!”

“Whoa! Mom! Language!” Shooting Star teased, smirking. “There’s like, children here. Say you’re sorry, and I might consider--”

“Your father would have never left me hanging her unsatisfied for this long in a plan I--”

That did it. Was all it took for Shooting Star’s playful demeanor and willingness to take his time and smell the pussy scented roses to vanish and for him to get to the point, driving it home by driving his three longest fingers up his mother’s skirt, through her panties (literally tearing the drenched silk there apart), and up into her sopping, motherly cunt. Tapping into his reserve of pegasus speed, his hand became an albion blur pushing in and out and vibrating every which way faster than any vibrator or fuck machine known to ponydom, man, and several known to monkeys.

The words Celestia had lined up died in her throat along with any sound and conscious thought for a few moments.

A quarter of a minute in, though, the vast, unyielding magnitude of the sheer joy her nether were receiving at her own son’s herculean ministrations finally caught up to her. Closing her eyes shut, she let out a distinctly feminine wail so intense it was akin to the very same one mare actors in cheesy horror plays screamed whenever the slasher gave chase and was nipping at their hooves. If somepony without the context contributed by sight heard it, they would have knee-jerkingly assumed their solar diarch was being murdered by an assassin rather than being finger fucked to oblivion by her own jailbait of a little boy and brought by him to such peaks of ecstasy that the new X-frame, constructed out of far sturdier material, shook even more violently than the older, weaker one, as she was caught throes of passion so great that she lost control of her earthpony strength.

“Buck buck buck buck buck!” Celestia repeated before letting out a horish moan and her tongue falling out and hanging there like she were a thirsty bitch that had just done a lap around the equator. “I forgot you’d gotten this GOOOOOOOD!”

“What can I say?” Shooting Star said, kneeling down but never once stopping pumping his royal mommy’s wet ass pussy. “I learned from you, and you’re the best, mom.” With his other hand, he tore off the remnants of Celestia’s ruined panties and tossed them to the side. “Now just sit right back, relax--” He pushed his mother;s skirt up past her hips and smiled fondly as her exposed, soaked sex. “And just cum for me mommy.”

Shooting Star then nibbled on his mother’s lovely little love nub of a clitoral button with his teeth and began lathering at it with his tongue like he was trying to break a world record in trying to get to the center of a tootsie pop.

To say Celestia took this rather well would be akin to saying a rat would have an orgasm locked up in a cheese shop in Italy Or even one of the local guineas would have an orgasm trapped in such a place.

She _loved_ it.

LOVED it.

L-U-V-LUVED it!

So much so her face started making that one particular expression nipponese nudey artists liked to go to when they were at a loss and needed a crutch, ahegao. Enough that her deep, bass, base, craven, and even haunting vocalizations of abject pleasure rumbled the entire room as body did the X-frame. Enough that her wings, gloriously extended as they were in wingboner position since the first donut dildo had been plugged into her juicy pussy, audibly popped out of their socket, sounding like a giant dragon spitting out a giant appleseed.

If shooting Star had noticed, he gave no indication. Even his mother’s passionate moans did not change to indicate she felt any pain from the development in her wings. For as Celestia, Shooting Star was lost in his own little world and reveled in every passing second, the exquisiteness that was his own mother’s sex juices flooding onto his tongue so steadily making him neigh in absolute bliss.

He was only brought out of his euphoria when his mother had finally reached her tipping point, yelling out, “Star! Honey! Out of the way! I’m about to flood!”

“That’s kind of the idea, mom,” he said, muffled by his mother’s tantalizing muff.

“No! Like a REALLY big floooAHHHD!”

Just like that, Celestia started cumming again. But unlike the previous times, this wasn;’t a mere bucket and half a big gulp’s worth. Oh no, no, no. Goodness no. Oh sweet summer child, no. This was a tidal wave. A tsunami. A torrential downpour. A leak in an Ohio-class submarine patrolling the marianas trench. A veritable deluge. A sonorous storm of cum to end all cums.

Shooting Star, as though he were not already a lucky as fuck boy, hardly just managed to take to the air and levitate the food and drink still on the floor to his height without any of his mother’s girl cum that wasn’t already coating him or them coating him or them afresh.

Most of the rest of the room, however, faired poorly to say the least, the bed and living room portions becoming as soaked as though they had just gotten off a ride at SeaWorld during hurricane seasons, the floor in those areas covered in ankle deep girlcum that spread and spread almost to the doors leading out as Celestia continued to hit octaves higher than Mariah Carrey getting fisted by The Rock, because those are celebrities that are totally relevant to this fic, right?

“AHHHHH! OH BUCK BUCK BUUUUUUCK!” were the only cognizant words she said, though sometimes in orders that made even less grammatical sense.

“Mom!” Shooting Star said, eyes almost as wide as his mother’s. “Oh buck! I did it again, didn’t I? Shit! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to--well, I guess I kind of did--but not like this again! Not like--”

“Shooting Star!” Celestia somehow squeaked and shrieked out. “You shut up and kiss your mother on the lips and tongue fuck her this instant, young colt!”

“But mom! What about your wings!? They’re probably popped out like last time!”

“Kiss me you fool!”

“Ahhh!”

Panicking and clutching his head, but not needing to be commanded thrice, Shooting Star executed his mother’s orders to a T, the only hiccup in the timetable being finding a place to safely settle the food and drink, doing so on his mother’s dresser, and then flying up to her and plugging up her cries with his mouth and tongue wrestling with her like there was a king’s ransom on the line.

Three minutes. There long, passionate minutes did mother and son stand and hover there macking on each other’s lips so steamily. Thankfully, it was only half a minute in that Celestia’s figurative Hoofer Dam stopped breaking into even so much as a trickle, but by then the amount of girlcum, the damage, and only probably the fun, had been doubled, the outermost edges of the kiddiepool of feminine jizz now reaching the doors most certainly.

“Ow ow ow!” Celestia managed to groan out despite the deepness of their kiss, making Shooting tar withdraw. “The pleasure! Giving way to pain! In my wings! You were right! Ooooo you were right, Star! It hurts! It hurts! And not in the hot way! The normal, not hot way!”

“I knew it!” Shooting Star flapped behind her and grabbed onto her wingboner. “Don’t worry, mom! I’ll realign your wings with the rest of your spine, pronto!”

“Wait! Star! Stop! Please!” Celestia shrieked in terror. “Get me something to bite down on first!”

“Huh? Why? What do you need something like that for?” Shooting Star asked, scratching his head.

“So that I can chomp down on it so I’m not focussed on the agony of what you’re about to do you idiot!”

It took him an embarrassing amount of time afterward to realize what his mother was getting at, but when he did, he at least had the good decency to blush and beat his head against his knuckles. “Right. Duh. Sorry. Stupid me.” After making sure his eyeballs were set back in place from hitting himself so hard, Shooting Star looked around quickly for something, anything that could fulfill his mother’s requirements and settled on a small metal bar he saw poking out of the peak of the girlcum logged ruins of the older X-frame and levitated it into his hands. “Here, chew on this. Should be sturdy enough. At least for the short time it’ll take me.” He placed it into her mouth without any resistance from her and asked, “Are you ready, mom?”

“As I’ll ever be, dear,” Celestia sighed and muffled out, “Just get this over with already!”

“I hear you, mom, and that’s exactly what I’m shooting for! On the count of one.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Three!”

Shutting her eyes and biting down on the metal that it creaked like it was under a five ton hydraulic press, Celestia braced herself for what was to come. And it was a good thing too that she did when she did for hardly a moment afterwards and in one swift, practiced motion without any bumps or loitering in the road, her son set her wings back where they belonged.

While Celestia’s voice did not soar quite as high into the upper registers as it had during her latest, legendary climax, it was a dirtclod’s mass (and ass) away. Though at the very least, she was in every bit of pain an observer would have thought upon hearing the dreadful sound. So that was something.

When his mother’s voice came back down to indoor levels, Shooting Star wrapped his arms tenderly around her head from behind and pressing his own head to hers asked, “Want I should get the muscle relaxer?”

Celestia sighed, both because the pain had died down enough she could appreciate not existing in pain again and because she felt comforted locked in the loving lover’s embrace of her son. “No, no. I’m a big girl. I can manage. Believe you me, I’ve suffered worse well before you were born. When I was around your age, actually.”

“All the more reason to take the outs provided by the modern world, don’t you think? I mean, what greater cause is there to take things the easy way than over a thousand years of pain and suffering?”

“I hear you, and I understand. But I can manage, really I can. Besides,” Celestia rubbed her head best she could against her son’s arms. “My poor baby boy is probably hurting far more. His big fat babymakers must be so full they’re about to pop like hot weather balloons!”

Shooting Star sighed. “Yeah. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at that point already. Balls are so blue you could squish them and use them for painting.”

Mother and son both just stood there and looked wide eyed for a few moments. Then they grimaced and shivered at the highly disturbing imagery such a turn of phrase conjured up.

“Ewww. Did you really have to put it like that?”

“Sorry, mom. SUPER horny right now. Kind of messing with ye olde cognitive capacity.”

“Well then, what say we stop talking for a bit, continue my master plan, and help you out with that a little? And don’t you worry, I promise to treat your _berries_ and the _twig_ they’re attached to much more gently than that grizzly picture you brought to mind.”

“Okay, mom. Just, please promise me that if your wings start acting up again at any point that we’ll stop and you get the muscle relaxer, okay? Cross your heart and hope to fly--”

“Stick a cupcake in my eye. Yeah, yeah. I know. I was there reading the first ever friendship report Twilight mentioned that promise.”

“So you agree to it, then?”

Celestia responded by licking her son’s fingers sensually. “What do you think?”

“That I’m finally going to cum liters myself?” he said with a wide grin.

Celestia continued to lick her son’s fingers and cooed. “Mmmm hmmm. Good boy. Now show me again what a good boy you are and take care of mommy’s juices, would you? I’d do it myself but I’m a little tied up at the moment in a magic absorbing prison of sorts, you know?”

Shooting Star snaked his head around to kiss her forehead. “With gusto.” He levitated his goblet back into his hand, leaned down to scoop up some of his mother’s cum from the floor into it, mixed the cum in well with his coffee, drank it, and whinnied while making happy drunk Shooting Star noises. “Buck that chases those cum covered donuts down REAL SMOOTH.” His cup of girlcum infused coffee fully consumed, he then leaned back and flew up and to the center of the room. Once there, he cast a spell that summoned a miniature sun that dried up all the vaginal lubricant rain his mother had drenched the place in so thoroughly that all the water damage was reversed and not even the aroma of cunt lingered.

When the mini-sun disappeared into the same nothing it had sent all the girlcum and its effects, Celestia nodded best she could, and said, “I knew teaching you that spell would come in handy one day.”

“Come or cum?”

“Don’t start that again with me, young man.”

“Sorry.” A bashful smile and blush adorned his face.

Without another word that could possibly grate further on his mother’s nerves, Shooting Star flew down in front of his mother, hooves touching tile, and carefully pushed the button to undo all her binds at once, making sure that when she fell forward, it was into his waiting and loving arms.

“Oh buck,” Celestia said, almost going completely slack in his embrace. “I knew my legs would feel like jelly, but I didn’t think they’d feel like mush. Buck me those hands and mouth of yours are too good for my own good.”

“I suppose I’m probably going to say the same about you too pretty soon. About your mouth, anyways.”

“Damn skippy.”

When Celestia could stand upright again on her own, and after a heated face sucking session, Shooting Star levitated his mother with meticulous caution and precision until she was floating upside down and then, one by one and by, he redid her restraints until she was back safe and secured in the X-frame except for her world being flipped this go around. He schooched up close, loin-cloth covered crotch pressed lightly against her muzzle and for the longest time, he tried his best to keep her skirt up and from dangling down past her hips and showing her uncovered mound near eye level with him, but after the tenth time just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Buck it.”

“Not yet. That _cums_ later,” Celestia teased.

Rolling his eyes, Shooting Star laughed out, “And after you gave me so much trouble, too.”

“ _Cum_ , on, son,” Celestia said with the most extensive troll face she could. “You have to admit you set yourself up perfectly for that one. Too perfectly not to pounce on.

Shooting Star clicked his tongue, sucked in his cheeks, and looked off to the side with a frown before grinning and looking down at his mother’s face. “Okay, you got me, I can see that.”

“And from this closeup, _I_ can see just how hard you are.” Celestia rubbed her face against her baby’s package, humming contently to herself. “Oh, and boy can I _feel_ it too. You could poke out an eye of an Ursa with such a _devastating tool_.”

Shooting Star sighed serenely at the sensations his mother was giving him an exclusive preview to and asked, “Minor or major?”

“Yes,” his mother simply replied. Purring like an affectionate kitten. Celestia licked forcefully yet tenderly at the outline of his dick for about a minute, getting him to outright moan and shudder. Then, suddenly growling like a ravenous lioness, she gripped his cloth covered cock in her perverted grin and bit down on it, earning her a yelp from him, but one unmistakably tinged with pleasure as she then tore off the loin-cloth and tossed it aside in a swift motion. Celestia then swooned like a schoolfilly that had seen her first pecker as she bore witness to her son’s glorious, foot-long schlong for the first time _that night_. “Buck yes!”

Without any further foreplay or delay, Celestia then wrapped her big, alicorn tongue midway around her son’s shaft and reeled it far into her mouth, wasting no time in gagging and choking herself on her little boy’s prodigious pee-pee.

Speaking of, a few seconds in was all it took for Shooting Star to start sighing in relief as though he’d been constipated for hours and was just now able to take that satisfying dump he needed to unblock himself. True, not the most tantalizing or sexy of analogies, but anyone unfortunate enough to suffer through that and lucky enough to survive understands EXACTLY what I’m talking about. And as the seconds gave way to minutes, Shooting Star’s understanding of that figure of speech only grew along with the intense pleasure radiating out from where his mother’s moist pr **incesst** ly mouth met his pampered, princely pony prick.

Soon after, he was brought to the point of weeping tears of ginormous joy, sobbing out, “Oh yes, mommy! Yes! I needed this! I _need_ this! Oh! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!”

It eventually got so good for the lad that he had to lean against his mother and her kinky contraption, his head resting against her equally kinky cooch for support. That was when he noticed just how wet she was growing again, feeling her juices dampen his mane, and when he looked up to see for himself he was greeted little projectile clitoral wink that struck him square in the eye and made him laugh out loud like a school colt getting into his first squirt gun fight. With a trio of overly long licks and a couple of over the top smooches, he lapped his mother clean of the excitement trying to suck her own flesh and blood’s cum out like a bowling ball through a straw (a coffee straw) was wracking her with. The attention, however, only made her shiver in delight and her quim quiver out and display how monumentally turned on she was by allowing her feminine arousal to flow freely once more.

Shooting Stat, at first, lashed out with his tongue and lips as he had before, even going so far as to clench down a fair amount of pressure on her royal clit and lather it with his tongue like it was peach flavored ice-cream (his favorite) while giving her the fingers as he had done a few minutes ago. But after a particularly rough brushing of her tongue against the top of his mushroom crown mixed in with the tip of her nose pressing against his balls a little too tightly, the pain brought him back to reality and he stopped before things got way out of hand as they recently had. Instead, he scribbled a separate sexy scheme in his head that, while newer, would lead to a far gentler climax the both of them could actually be expected to have a modi _cum_ of control over.

With his magic, he levitated over the whip he had used earlier on her lovely lady lumps planted low and on her back (her _if_ you want a quick, crass way of referring to it without referencing that one _Black Eyed Peas_ song from forever ago you uncultured zoomer hooligans!) into an awaiting hand and began jamming it down into his mother’s pussy like he was using a plumber’s drain snake one handed to clean up an old, leaky, backed up faucet. In a way. He supposed he truly was.

Celestia’s eyes bulged out as her cunt muscles adjusted to the unanticipated intrusion, but after a few seconds of enjoying the sensation of fullness the whip handle brought her, she moaned long and breathily on his cock and did something her son had not even thought possible of her before that night. She sucked harder. WAY harder. So much so the sensation could only be properly described as trying to suck a whale through the proboscis of a skeeter. A _sperm_ whale.

Now it was shooting Star’s turn to have his eyes bulge out, though in his case perhaps _bug-out_ would have been the more apt descriptor.

It felt so tight around his dick, so slick, so hot, so inviting, so _perfect_ , that he couldn’t help but remark, “Oh! Your mouth, mommy! It’s like a pussy right now! Your pussy! Then, as if to further prove his point, out of their own volition and outside the realm of his control, his hips began to buck forwards, sliding his sturdy stone-like putz deeper down her royal throat. So deep it went past her thoracic inlet and below (relatively speaking) her collar bone, his nuts and pubic hair pressed as tightly against her muzzle as the laws of physics permitted before significant bodily injury occurred in hides as ridonkulously tough as alicorn’s. “Oh this is… this is… so nice! You hear that, mommy! Your mouth-pussy feels so nice!”

As he withdrew and then slammed back home, his tears of joy becoming two loud rushing waterfalls it was so good for him, he was reminded he wasn’t the only one getting off big time to this when his mother squirted into the same eye she had moments ago. He then started shoving the handle into her with reinvigorated passion, gaming the macgyvered black dildo into her so hard that the actual whipping bit was even whipping her a bit on the calves, inner thighs, and her glorious, sun branded flanks. Naturally, given her affinity for a little masochism during sex stuff, this combined with the sheer stuffering her own son was giving her esophagus with his fat fucking phallus into making her hum a merry little throaty tune that truly tickled his picke and the attached black olives in all the right ways.

Ways so right he abandoned the whip lodged in her vagina and grabbed his mother’s shapely budunkadunk by the cutie marks for leverage and, using his hooves as well as his wings for propulsion, drove himself with all the strength he could muster into and out of her mouth, face fucking her in earnest. Face fucking her with such sexual savagery that it was he who now rocked the newer X-frame like his namesake striking down upon an active faultline.

All traces of his normal, gentle and caring personality all but spent, he showed no shame in whinnying and braying and blowing hot smoke outside of his nostrils like some sort of wild, feral beast, crazily jostling the room with the power of his thu'um, not even caring for his mate’s own orgasmic gratification, letting the whip still stick in his mother’s womanhood against all odds flail wildly about and strike the both of them uncontrollably, drinking greedily of her feminine fluids that dripped out to maintain his pharynx shattering erection.

Mommy fared little better, and were it not for her baby boy’s piehole plugging prick making it impossible, Celestia would have made the exact same erotically animalistic noises save for in a feminine manner. And despite Shooting Star finally too lost in his own lust to _directly_ satiate her own anymore, she coated his mane and face and thirsty throat liberally with tasty, girly broth, only a single steps from tumbling over the erotic edge.

“Ooooo! Ooooo! Oh mommy! Oh mommy!” Shooting Star suddenly shouted, a flicker of sanity returning as he too arrived at the same edge. “I’m about to cum! I’m about to cum! You’re making me cum, mommy! I’m going to cum so hard because of your tight mouth-pussy, mommy! I love you for this mommy! I love you so much, mommy!” Fast as it was forceful, he threw his hands down and snaked them past the neckline of her dress, slid them beneath the E-cups of her bra, and mashed them against her big, bountiful breasts like he was kneading dough. All the while, he pinched and flicked her nipples with the same force he’d been subjected to whenever his mother pinched him in the butt out and about the castle recently until it _hurt her_.

That did it. Like a cork, the whip popped out Celestia’s pussy as it erupted in a molten shower of girlcum like a lewd, sexy, obscene volcano, the titillating torture tool rebounding off the ceiling and giving her one last smack for good measure against her cheeks on its collision course with the tile. The added pain made her climax extra exquisite, but also had the bonus effect of preventing her from losing herself completely to it. Because of this, she was reminded of her special plot (not _that_ plot! Sickos!) she’d whispered to her son and with great self-control and her alicorn mouth muscles, she spat his cok out despite the limited movement afforded her by her restraints and quickly yelled out, “Star! Donuts! Coffee! Now!” as she kept jizzing.

Her voice snapping him out of the brutish funk he was in, Shooting Star, grabbing his ponderous dong and fluffing it like the world’s toughest pillow shouted out, “BUCK! I FORGOT!”

On the eventide of such a tremendous release of ecstasy, it really was a testament to what he could accomplish even when pressed with such a little clarity that he managed to get the half-eaten box of donuts he’d been using to drill his mother earlier into position at all. Granted, he still couldn’t think clearly enough to get her wine goblet into position, but he did manage to get the whole coffee pitcher and toss the top off, so things actually worked out okay. Big time. Otherwise, his mommy may not have had any coffee at all to drink. At least, none that she could make out with her mouth.

Because a few seconds later, Celestia’s Star Son Was Shooting everywhere. “OH MY BUUUCCCKKK!” He shot a lot. I mean A LOT. LOADS. A BIG LOAD. Sure, he did manage to get bullseyes on his marks: the half dozen remaining donuts in the box, the inside of the coffee pitcher, and his mother’s heavenly body (her actual physical body, not the sun though at the moment he felt his jizz could reach it at trans-light velocity his dick was pumping it out with such strength). And truly, while great, the volume of cum he output was nothing like what his mother produced during her last, rightside up orgasm, only amounting to five buckets and a quarter of a big gulp, thank goodness. The boy regularly had his balls drained and wasn’t suffering from over a thousand years of repressed sexual urges and desires like mommy dearest still was, after all.

But, it was messy. Highly, massively, messy. And because his princely pony prick pointed upwards most of the time, it reached places that his mother’s delluvian disaster had not. The ceiling, walls, curtains, cabinet tops, windows, dresser tops, mirrors, jewelry boxes, her bedspread, headboard, footboard, the X-frame, and many other things were casualties where before they had _gotten off_ being _cummed on_.

It took two entire minutes for the thick, viscous ropes od white hot white pleasure to peter out from shooting out of his peter, and when it did, Shooting Star let out one last, husky moan of ultimate bliss and satisfaction and promptly fell over backwards onto the ground. His arms and legs slid close as could be and as far as possible from his body on the cum covered tile as his head spun figuratively and literally in a happy haze.

He didn’t have long to enjoy this _wiseman time_ as the nipponese called the post-orgamis period and _be_ for long, though.

“Star, honey,” Celestia panted out. “Sorry to ruin your moment, but could you please hurry before it gets cold, dear?”

Shooting Star groaned in simple annoyance rather than rapturous pleasure for the first time in the longest time in the immediate past before, in a resigned sigh, he said, “Coming, mom!”

“Again!?” she shrieked out in equal parts terror and excitement.

He rolled his eyes as he pushed himself back up onto his frogs. “No! Not _that_ kind! You’re about to get enough of _that_ kind as is.”

“Oh.” Celestia blinked before blushing so furiously that it showed even through her jizz spackled face. “Sorry.”

Modding in acceptance of her apology, Shooting Star looked down to inspect precisely what had happened to the donuts and coffee pitcher and found them almost unrecognizable beneath the sheer weight of his ejaculate. Shrugging, he levitated them a tad closer to his mother and then bent down till he was eye level with her. When he was, he noticed that the cum wasn’t mixed all that well with the coffee in the pitcher and, getting a bright idea, decided to stir his sperm in with his still long and girthy cock serving as spoon.

His disappointment was immeasurable, and his day was (almost) ruined. His dick pulled back out was instantaneous. His pain from his scalding sensation on his johnson was anything but. His lips vocalized, “BUCK THAT’S HOT! How’s it still so hot!? I thought it’d be, like, perfect drinking temperature! Like a hot shower! What the buck!?”

Celestia giggled. “That pitcher is enchanted to keep whatever’s in it pipping fresh hot for over a day, Star.”

“Well then, buck! Why didn’t you bucking tell me BEFORE I went sticking my wood in a hornet’s nest WAY more literally than I ever wanted!?” he shouted, rubbing his willy tenderly not for the express purpose of jerking off for once. “Does the sight of me in pain REALLY get you off THAT much, mom!?”

Celestia responded with a trickle of her own ejaculate running out her pussy, sliding down her body beneath her dress, and trickling over her t-zone to her nose. “Maybe,” she said in playful sing-song fashion, her _Trollestia_ countenance back in full force.

Shooting Star stared in disbelief at her for a while before relenting, slumping his shoulders, and saying, “You’re lucky you’re cute and that I came from you.”

“Yes. Yes I am. And yes you did.”

Sighing in defeat, Shooting Star levitated over a bottle of aloe vera and lathered a good portion of that shit on his cock until he grunted out, “Buck! Not even married yet and I’m already so pussy whipped.”

“Yes. Yes you are.”

When Shooting Star’s duck finally stopped feeling like it was on fire (in the bad, not sexy way), he put the aloe vera back and grabbed hold of the coffee pitcher and its top. Putting the top back on, he opted for the shaken not stirred approach and jostled the thing with both hands until its contents were as blended together as they were ever going to be, putting back down next to the donut box when he was done. He then knelt back down and continued with his mother’s plan, feeding her all six of the cum glazed donuts and letting her sip the cum infused coffee straight from the spout betwixt bites.

“Mmmm. Your taste is so fine, baby. Adds sweet spice to anything it touches. Makes me _sooo naughty. So alive.”_ Celestia said in between stuffing her face.

“I know what you mean, mom,” Shooting Star said, having now settled down and permitting himself to revel in how blazing hot this moment was. Not literally, thankfully. Sexually. “I might not always agree with your kinks, but buck if they don’t work out real bucking good sometimes, like now.”

After Celestia scarfed the final donut and finished licking her lips and whole face clean of any _cream_ (yes, _that_ kind of cream. For once) that hadn’t entered her mouth with the fried dough, she looked up to her son, eyes watering with parental pride as she said, “Thank you, dear. That means a lot. More than you know. Especially since you can still say it from the heart even after my relentless ribbing.”

“ _You_ mean a lot, mom. More than _you_ know.”

Shooting Star leaned down to kiss her, but was stopped when she said, “Wait! Still have a lot of your jizz in mouth! Help me wash it down first!”

He immediately leaned back and said, “Yikes! Thanks for the heads up, mom! Would have been REALLY gay if I got to macking on you now.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Shooting Star gingerly poured the remaining contents of the coffee pitcher down his mother’s throat as she used the hot liquid and her tongue to clean the interior of her mouth from anything related to her son’s cum.

When Celestia opened her kisser, her pearly whites were so spotless and, well, _pearly white_ that he could see his reflection even as they sparkled like the dew of dawn. “Ta-da!” she said as best she could without moving her lip muscles at all. “So clean you could eat off them without even catching a whiff of cock breath!”

Shooting Star’s eyes widened, having been prepared to try and kiss her again and forgetting all about the fact her breath was probably still kickin’ like an angry, drunkard mule. But when he learned down and took a few exploratory sniffs, he found that she was right and that her breath smelt like a spring meadow after a fresh april shower.

“Oh yeah! Forgot you could do that.” He leaned ever closer, looking amorously deep into her eyes. “Mmmm… how do you do it, mommy?”

“By being awesome,” Celestia said with a big, shit eating grin.

“Mmmm… I believe you.”

And then they made out for a good five minutes straight.

When they had their fill of the provided thrill, Shooting Star carefully released his mother from the X-Frame and levitated her right side up again. This time, despite being upside down for so long, she didn’t need her son to keep her steady as she regained her balance. That did not stop her, however, from making out with him yet again.

It would have gone on far longer than the last time too, if Celestia hadn’t felt what she had when feeling up her son’s back side like it was the most luxurious thing in the world and pulled away because of it. “Star, honey! Your wings!”

“What about them?” He sounded confused and honestly a little disappointed their current sesh was cut so abysmally short.

“Don’t you feel them? They’re popped right out of your sockets!”

Shooting Star’s eyes popping out of _their_ sockets, he craned his neck to both his wings to find them extended in a glorious wingboner that wouldn’t let up and then via his fingers felt at the spots where they met his back. His mother was right. _Boy_ was she right. And with this epiphany, the pain began to arrive. “Oh. Oh no. How long have they been like that!?”

“I don’t know!”

The pain then hit excruciatingly and despite his mother’s best go, he slipped down into the puddle of his own cum at his hooves and started writing in agony.

“Star! Sweetie! Stop! Hold still! Oh! You think I should bust out the muscle relaxer!?”

“Wow, mom! You think!? YEOWWWWHOOHOOHOO!”


	4. The Moment Where The Story Title Actually Happens... In Her!

“So… we’re really going through with it.”

“This whole thing was your idea. Why the cold hooves all of a sudden?”

“It’s not cold hooves, honey. We’re doing this. Oh believe you me we’re doing this and are going to do it right.”

“And here comes the but.”

“No. Butts don’t do the cumming. You’d think you’d know that by _now_.”

“Mom! Stop it! I thought we agreed to quit running that gag tonight!”

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. Was far too tempting a forbidden fruit to have. Just like your body as it turns out! _But_ yeah, the _but’s_ not big enough to get worked up over or anything. Certainly not like _my butt_.”

“You know it’s a sad day when I’m the one getting dog tired of all these sex puns.”

“Baby, don’t be like that. It’s a happy day! A joyous day! One which you couldn’t possibly get dog tired of because we’re not doing anything doggie style today!”

“Cringe. Just… just cringe.”

“ _Butt_ getting back on track, I’m not hesitating, dear. I’m not. Believe me I’ve wanted this for a long time. Technically for way longer than you’ve been alive and before I knew I wanted you, my own so specifically, to give it to me. I just… I just… want to savor the moment, you know? Really just lay back, relax, and take in the sight of us like this on the eve of such an historic occasion till the picture burns in my corneas so deep I’ll see it everytime I close my eyes effortlessly whenever I need a quick pick me up.”

“You mean like wet dream fuel?”

“Among other things.”

“Huh. Really? Man, mom, can you make up your mind? Do you want me to finally hop to the main event or keep hyping up your pussy? Because it sounds to me that despite what you told me earlier that you still want to be _dripping with anticipation_ a little while longer despite begging me to finally get to jumping and pumping your old bones.”

“I… uhhh… suppose I wouldn’t mind just a little, teeny, tiny run of foreplay. Just this one… last… time.”

Celestia was flustered and felt her face flush a scalding scarlet. Not because she was in a pool of her son’s still warm ejaculate left over from the donut and coffee glazing/sweetening in the middle of her bed. Not because she was near totally naked before him, her little boy having had ripped off her golden bra and tied it around her horn just above her crown and hiked down the top of her golden dress and hiked up the skirt of it till her it was wrapped like a belt just above her navel, her mammoth F-cup mammaries below her golden jeweled gorget and her neatly trimmed pussy out on full display. Not even because he held his twelve inch hunk of manmeat firmly against her labial entrance, the fate of her quim at his whim. But simply because, like some school-filly all heart a flutter way more juvenile than she had any right to be, her mood had swung so far and so fast in the opposite direction when she’d been adamant about her course.

Just a few minutes ago, as she lovingly and carefully caressed Shooting Star;s wings and back with the muscle relaxer, she’d turned herself on so much, not hard to do when her boy shared in her supermodel good looks and she was effectively feeling him up in a pool of his own jism, Celestia had told him that after his wings were corrected and the pain subsided enough (which took him half an hour’s time after he worked up the courage to let her do it), this was it. No more foreplay. No more build-up. No More beating around the bush. Only whacking the bush with the big stick he walked softly with like an imperialist against the native population of some far-off, unpronouncable land with improbably placed consonant no one knew where the fuck was on the map.

She was so horny, so wet and willing for that moment she’d been holding in her breath for and that she knew he was too, that she even refused to clean all his cum from the room or permit him to use up his own time and energy to do so, though she had both to spare in licking _him_ and the immediate spot on the tile he lay clean.

And yet, there she was, upon the (cum stained) comfort of her own sheets, FINALLY about to get penetrated, finally about to get on to getting it on with her son in the ultimate way the night had been chugging towards full steam ahead, and SHE was being the one to slow down the Pound Town express. For the first time since initiating this affair with her son too.

Celestia sighed. “Buck. Not even pregnant, and already I’m acting so hormonal.”

Shooting Star cupped her chin affectionately, bringing her eyes up to look into his own. “Or maybe my ways are finally just getting to you.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, ignoring and trying NOT to get riled up by his self-satisfied grin. “Oh, you’d _love_ to think that, wouldn’t you, dear?”

“Now, now. I get it, I get it,” he said, putting his hands up. “You realized at the last second that this shouldn;t be a jerky, dirty bit buck, but something playing to a gentler, cleaner melody. At least to start. After all, this is special. Super special. The kind of thing that only happens once.”

Celestia didn;t dare meet his eyes again, stubbornly refusing to puff up his pride at being so on target. This didn’t even last a minute, however, before she was unable to fight it and contain herself any longer. She latched onto one of his hands with both her own and began kissing, slurping, and outright blowing each of his fingers like they were each the most wonderful cock in the world. Aka, his own. “Yes. Yes! You’re so right, Star! That’s what I want! That’s what I bucking want!” she said betwixt kinky mouth shit, tears falling from her eyes.

Rather than revel in being right, as she’d expected, Shooting Star smiled warmly and ran his free hand sensually through her billowing, pastel, rainbow mane. “Shhh, mom. Shhh. It’s okay. It really is. Because I’ve got great news for you: I, Shooting Star, crown prince, heir to the Equestrian throne, and your own son, am here. To. Satisfy.”

Without another word, he wrapped the hand going through her hair around his love-tool, and traced small circular paths around her cunt lips as though his dick were a brush and her pussy a color palette. It was not as forceful as it could have been, his _brush_ only getting a little wet with her _paint_ as a result, but it was consistent, it was pleasant, and most importantly of all, it did soothe her and her aching lust. Enough that she stopped lathering her son’s fingers with her spit in various ways and leaned backfill she was _on_ her back. She ran her hands all over her tight, nubile body including but not limited to: her flat, fit stomach, her well defined, commandingly feminine face, her shapely, sunny flanks, her ethereal, tri-color head of hair, and of course her humongous, heaving, hooters. Every touch was positively electrifying, jolts of serene delight shocking her, lulling her into a bit of a pleasurable nap so thoroughly that the moment she shut her eyes, her brain immediately went into REM mode, mind alight with sweet dreams. Love. Marriage. Foals in the bay carriage. That sort of romantic shit that might have seemed vanilla given her somewhat debauched tastes but that she’d craved for since before there even was equestria, whatever her need for slightly more kinky sex than the average mare was used to.

For the ten entire minutes that it lasted, it was an altogether fantastic affair for her. A welcome change of pace from how buck wild the night had been so far.

And then, of course, the night decided to say _fuck it_. Not too much. Only a little compared to how quickly things had tended to escalate, but it certainly was enough to snap Celestia wide awake, crying out in surprised pleasure, “Whoa, now! I thought we were taking things slow!”

Shooting Star, now rubbing his cock fast and furiously over her weeping clit up and down like he was trying to scrape off barnacles from a tunnel of love by the seaside, had that feral look about him again. Not as severe, but unmistakable still. “We have! For long enough!” He picked up the pace, getting them both to let out guttural, horish moans of capricious abandon. “But I can’t hold back my desire to rut you till we’re both comatose anymore! Your ways are finally getting to me, mommy! Your body’s driving me nuts to finally nut in you, mommy!”

His dirty, filthy talk combined with another burst of speed from his tallywhacker whacking her hotbox sent Celestia screaming up into blissville. Him finally penetrating her all the way to the hilt and past her cervix as her cunt spasmed out her liquid joy sent her there faster and louder.

“Ahhhhahaha!”

“Bucking finally! Oh! I’ll never get over how your insides feel like a thousand tiny tongues pressing against my pecker!”

Truly it did, for truly it was. Little known fact given how few stallions had ever been with one, but the inside of the vaginas of female alicorns were lined with small, strong, and flexing bundles of muscle that would swish back and forth like a conglomerate of tongues over an invading member, rendering intercourse with one also feeling like getting a blow job at the same time. Simply stupefying in how pleasurable it was. And that was under normal conditions. Celestia couldn’t begin to picture what paradise he’d died and gone to with her pussy squeezing out his juices. Though to be fair, at the moment, that was mostly because she was lost in a paradise of her own pleasure.

A paradise so fantastic that Celestia couldn’t help but wrap her arms and legs around her off-spring and lover and gift him the _mother_ of all hickeys on his neck. Truly it was the best way she could think to put her mouth to use aside from wailing out her orgasm. This might not have been the best move if he was thinking normally, pain disapproving as he was, but in his current mental state this got him to growl like an erotic tiger. And like such a big, intimidating jungle cat horny out of his gourd, he returned the favor, drawing out her release for a good half a minute longer. How he was able to paradoxically maintain the self-control needed not to _die in her arms tonight_ in all the time it took for her pussy to quit clamping down on his cock, Celestia didn’t know.

And speaking of music…

“Alexa!” Shooting Star shouted out, taking his teeth, lips, and tongue off his mother’s neck and clapping. “Play Despacito!”

“ _Play Despacito,”_ came the disembodied voice of the AI controlled multi-media system hidden throughout the room, a technological marvel of a gift from Twilight’s friends in the human world that alone had advanced equestrian technological prowess decades ahead of where they were and the rest of the world but apparently had only cost them a hundred of their strange, green paper unit of currency they called _bucks_ and a jaunt to something called, _The Piggly Wiggly_ , whatever the fuck that was.

A second later after _Alexa’s_ pronouncement, the human world song Shooting Star had demanded be played, did so.

_Deeeespahsito! This is how we do it down in Puerto-Rico! Can’t speak spanish good so I say BUUURITO!”_

Much as her head was swimming in the sexual clouds, the moment she heard the opening word, Celestia stopped planting love-bites on her son’s neck and leaned back to look him over like he just admitted to a double homicide. “Star, what the buck!? We can’t have sex to this! Are you crazy!?”

In what she thought was a good sign, he was quick to slap himself in the face and shout, “You’re right!” Her hopes that he realized the severity of his colossal fuckup were dashed immediately however when he clapped his hands and yelled, “Alexa! Play Despacito _2_!”

“What! No! You idiot! NO DESPACITO!” As Despacito 2 began playing, Celestia took her arms off her son’s back and clapped her hands like she was trying to squash the world’s biggest horsefly between them. “Alexa! Stop playing Despacito 2!”

“ _Stopping Despacito 2.”_

“What!?” Shooting Star said, also being brought out of his lustful state and looking like any innocent old teen when their mother did something they didn’t like out of the blue. “Mom! Why’d you go and do that for!?”

“Because Luis Fonsi is an overrated greasy greaser wearing way too much hair grease past his sale-by date who I can barely tolerate, and I’m sorry, but I am NOT having you wash my womb white to him, mister! I mean, just think how embarrassing it’ll be telling the conception story to our child when they grow up!”

Shooting Star blinked as he stroked his chin, miffed and peeved, but still considering her words. “Yeah.” He sighed. “Much as I actually like the dude’s work, buck me if I wouldn’t feel like hammered shit to learn you and dad made me while listening to him.”

“As would I, particularly since Shining Armor actually has musical taste and would never even suggest something so… so… _mood ravaging_ and, to top it off, in some strange alien moonspeak I can’t decipher for the life of me! One of the many reasons why your Auntie Cadence took him for a husband.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. And if he did have my soft spot for Latin jigs, dad would have listened. I hear you.” Shooting Star grumbled and ran his palms over his bulging temples. “But if that’s the case, then what song _should_ I play as we finally cross this last forbidden line between mother and son?”

“Here’s a thought: why do you have to play a song at all, you know? Silence is golden after all, and gold is my favorite color, so--”

“Eureka! I’ve got it, as Auntie Luna likes to say!” Pointing his finger triumphantly in the air before clapping again and saying, “Alexa!”

“Star! I’m serious! We don’t need to make love to any--”

“Play my Marvin Gaye collection!”

“ _Playing My Marvin Gaye Collection.”_

Celestia clicked her tongue in protest and was set to gripe with him some more when he suddenly pressed the index finger of his other hand against her lips to zip them and silence her right as the first song began.

“Come on, mom! Give me a chance by giving Mr. Gaye a chance to work his smooth, sensual, and _romantic_ magic! Sure, the dude’s got a more unfortunate last name than Julius Fučík, but his music’s tight! And he was actually straighter than an arrow!”

“What? Like your dick in me right now?”

“Straighter!”

Celestia crossed her chest over her bodacious bare bust and gave him that look children knew all too well a mother gave when she was about to exercise her parental authority in a hard power way and put her hoof down strong enough to shatter redoubts in their entirety.

But then, something magical happened. Debatably even a tad more powerful in Celestia’s mind than the magic of friendship, as much as she knew Twilight would never stop giving her grief and sending her strongly worded letters challenging that _blasphemous proposition_ as she knew she’d call it. Certainly at least in the same ballpark of power, something Twilight’s wouldn’t dare disagree with in the slightest, for it was absolutely beyond the power of any mare in the know to do so.

She heard the first lyrics, and became absolutely spellbound, enticed, and enraptured, instantly reminded that while her son’s taste wasn’t as refined as his father’s, it was still objectively quite exquisite and she was further reminded of her own love for the human composer of the song and his body of work. Very much.

That night in equestria, yet another woman had fallen prey to The Big Gay himself.

“ _Get up, get up, get up, get up!_

“ _Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up!”_

Celestia, horny as all get out as she’d been all throughout their _tutoring session_ , had actually been able to contain herself rather admirably all things considered. A simple voice to awesome music, no matter how manly or how it spoke to her femininity and pushed her buttons there, would not have made her let out a loud, breathy moan and lay her back down on the bed as she endured the decadence of an intense micro-orgasm. But Marvin Gaye singing this song did without even having to touch her.

“ _Oh, baby now let’s get down tonight_

“ _Ooh baby, I’m hot just like an oven_

“ _I need some lovin’!”_

As he seemed to have acquired a habit of doing, Shooting Star didn’t let her finish cumming before he started screwing her again, pulling his cock out of her womb and her cunt entirely before slamming back in and rinsing, washing, and repeating all in rhythm to the song, the exact title of which _came_ back to Celestia even through the pleasure the music and her son granted her when the next few lines nibbled at her ears deliciously in time with her son physically doing so.

“ _And baby, I can’t hold it much longer,_

“ _It’s getting stronger and stronger!_

“ _And when I get that feeling,_

“ _I want_ _ **SEXUAL HEALING**_ _!_

“ _Sexual healing, oh baby_

“ _Makes me feel so fine_

“ _Helps to relieve my mind_

“ _Sexual healing baby, is good for me_

“ _Sexual healing is something that’s good for me!”_

Celestia’s mouth watered as it opened as wide as it could possibly go as she moaned now, her long tongue falling out like an extra sized fruit by the foot all the way to her belly button, wearing an ahegao of such sheer delight that anypony looking would immediately determine was just shy of a total mind break.

Anypony like her son.

“The bucking best, isn’t it?” Shooting Star asked before planting a long, slow, lecherous lick running from her snout all the way to her forehead. “Told you you’d like it!”

“Like it!? Baby, I bucking LOVE it!”

Celestia grabbed her son roughly by the face and pulled his lips to hers with such force as to grind marble to drink mix powder. This moment was so fucking good! So fucking pure! So fucking passionate and sexy! So fucking pleasurable!

And yes, so fucking _romantic._

“ _Whenever blue teardrops are fallin',_  
“ _And my emotional stability is leavin' me,_  
“ _There is something I can do_  
“ _I can get on the telephone and call you up, baby_  
“ _And honey, I know you'll be there to relieve me_  
“ _The love you give to me will free me_  
 _If you don't know the thing you're dealin'_  
“ _Ohh I can tell you, darling, that it's sexual healin'!”_

What little bit of Celestia’s mind there was not swept away from the sinfully pussy slobbering sensations causing her face to scrunch up in ecstasy got to thinking. She thought back to all those years ago on that particular especially unseasonably warm twenty-first night of September where her libido, which she had kept in check so well for over a millenia, could not hold against the blazing, summer-like autumn heat and just how hunky, _whip-_ smart, and invitingly endearing her then relatively new Captain of the Guard was. Back to when, with her silver tongue and body alone she had seduced Shining Armor for a go of unleashed indulgence much like this. How his son, _her own_ son, was such a chip of the old block, looking, sounding, and smelling so much like his father.

A regular prince charming as he plowed into her depths with loving abandon, ready to sow his oats all over her fertile hole.

Not wild oats.

Oh no.

Oh buck no.

For in contrast to his father, he was not spoken for by a wonderful woman of Cadance's caliber that would keep him from her. Oh no. For though her baby boy was a proper prodigy of the delicate touch, when it came to being assertive and dominant or even aware when it came to the opposite sex, Celestia had found him in dove-like innocence as she pounced on him and _showered_ him his education on carnal delights. She had shaped and molded him as best she could with her (his own _mother)_ as the sole object of his desires into her ideal lover. Her ideal husband. Her ideal father of her next child, and destiny willing, _many more to cum_.

“ _Get up, get up, get up, get up_  
“ _Let's make love tonight_  
“ _Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up_  
“ _'Cause you do it righ_  
“ _Baby, I got sick this mornin'_  
“ _A sea was stormin' inside of me_  
“ _Baby, I think I'm capsizin'_  
“ _The waves are risin' and risin'!”_

Destiny.

Such a funny, but fitting word in this case. For, looking back with the benefit of hindsight, she supposed she had always been grooming him to be all those things and more from the moment the doctors first permitted her eyes to fall upon him and to hold him in her arms after he was born. Since then, every hug and loving caress, every kiss to the forehead or cheek, every pat on the back and top of her crown when he did well, every spanking with her heel and wag of her finger when he did bad, every birthday and holiday, every hoofball game or other extracurricular, every school day and break and vacation, every single, solitary, second of his life, Celestia had spent cultivating his physical, intellectual, emotional, and spiritual well being so that some mare somewhere at sometime would enjoy his company for as long as she lived and get on her knees and pray and give thanks that, no matter what, she’d always have him and his undying love.

“ _And when I get that feelin'_  
“ _I want sexual healin'_  
“ _Sexual healin' is good for me_  
“ _Makes me feel so fine, it's such a rush_  
“ _Helps to relieve the mind, and it's good for us!”_

The only thing different since they had begun their illicit affair, was that she had decided to keep the fruits of her fifteen years of careful affection and tending to herself. For always and forever. For, like her, the ravages of time would never touch him to bring about his end, and she had forbidden him from any occupation more dangerous than simple desk work and had given him extensive combat and magic training to ensure that even that nothing short of a whole enemy host or cosmic event would ever lead to his demise even if his office was ever targeted.

“ _Sexual Healing, baby, is good for me_

“ _Sexual Healing is something that’s good for me_

“ _And it’s good for me and it’s good to me_

“ _My Baby ohh!”_

No matter what, she would always have her little boy by her side. And nothing would take him from her. Nothing. She’d sooner give away her stake in the kingdom than let him part now. Especially now. On the cusp of them taking their relationship to the next level. Especially when this escalation excited him just as much as it did her.

“ _Come take control, just grab a hold_  
“ _Of my body and mind, soon we'll be makin' it, honey_  
“ _I'll be feelin' fine_  
“ _You're my medicine, open up and let me in_  
“ _Darlin', you're so great, I can't wait for you to operate!”_

“Ohhh! I’m so close, mommy! I’m so close!” he announced after they finally parted, crying equally in agony at holding his _deposit_ in and ecstasy at approaching his limit. “I can’t wait! I can’t wait! I can’t wait till parliament passes that bill you snuck in, mommy! I can’t wait until incest is legalized, mommy! I can’t wait till I can marry you, mommy! I can’t wait till I can carry you down the aisle, mommy! I can’t wait till we say _I do_ while our firstborn is bulging from your belly for everypony to see, mommy! I can’t wait to knock you up tonight, mommy!”

At this point, Celestia couldn’t bucking wait either. She’d always pictured her son impregnating her lasting a little longer, at least a good three-quarters of an hour or so. Not around the length of _Sexual Healing_ of all things, but buck it. Aside from duration, the experience exceeded her expectations leaps and bucking bounds and she only had herself to blame for adding onto the shortness of her son’s trigger considering the virtual torture she’d already put him under and the fact she’d only let him cum once. She could bare with the penetration of her inseminating being shorter.

“ _(Healing, my darling)_  
“ _I can't wait for you to operate_  
“ _When I get this feelin'_  
“ _I need sexual healin'_  
“ _Oh when I get this feelin'_  
“ _I need sexual healin'!”_

Besides, if nothing else, _Sexual Healing’s_ climax was great to climax on.

“Then cum, Star!” Celestia moaned, pinching her perky pink nips and using them to stir her rocking animoo utter tiddies around. “Cum through my foalhole and baste the very womb you crawled out of with your virile seed and give it to me! Let mommy have your _baby_ , _baby_! Mommy NEEDS your _baby, baby_!”

One last, hard clench of her pussy around his cock was all it took. For them both.

“I LOVE YOU MOMMY!”

“I LOVE YOU SON!”

Shooting Star grabbed onto one of his mother’s nipples and then sucked on it like his life depended on it, like it used to back when has a foal and his life literally did. Celestia’s lips, meanwhile, found his again, kissing him as she suckled on her titanic teat so nostalgically.

Of course, she came from this, but soon after, and for more importantly, Celestia’s Star Son Was Shooting… In her!

A seminal spray so thick and viscous as to necessitate consumption via spoon hit her baby holding hole with such force that it only took his sperm a nanosecond after passing her cervix to penetrate the walls of one of her defenseless, waiting, and willing eggs, fertilizing it in a sunny, microscopic phosphorescent shine.

Celestia could literally _feel_ the moment of her son’s little swimmers accomplish this, the miracle of conception. Another little known fact about female alicorns. And because of this, she sobbed so many, many grateful tears of joy. As did Shooting Star once he finally erupted out all he had and finished painting almost the entire room in addition to her womb white in a big, cummy mess just as big as the largest climax his mother had on the X-frame.

Grabbing hold of his head and staring deep into his eyes, Celestia saw her past, present, and future all at once. He stared back, and she could tell he thought the same way.

“ _I gotta have sexual healin', darlin'_  
“ _'Cause I'm all alone_  
“ _Sexual healin', darlin'_  
“ _Till you come back home_  
“ _Please don't procrastinate_  
“ _It's not good to masturbate…”_

“Mommy?” Shooting Star asked, droozily.

“Yes, baby?” Celestia asked, faring little better.

“Will I be a good spouse for you? A good daddy for our kid?”

Celestia’s heart melted as it swooned. “Yes, baby. You’ll make a wonderful husband. And father. I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. Everything you’ve become.”

Shooting Star gave a sleepy, dreamy smile and nod and kissed her. “Thank you, mommy. Thank you so much.” His head slowly drifted down one side of her mouth until it rested on one of her shoulders, eyes drifting shut just as lackadaisical. “It’s all I want. All I’ve ever wanted.”

With that, his eyes closed completely and Celestia heard him snore like a baby dragon slumbering for centuries as he drifted off to her sister’s realm.

“Shhh… rest now, _My Little Shooting Star_ , and rest easy.” She Smiled fondly, cooing as she ran her head through his beautiful mane and backside as she used to do when he was a yearling. “Believe me, you’ll need it, for in nine months, you’ll miss it oh so dearly.” She kissed him tenderly on the forehead, leaned her head back and stretched out as far as she could, yawning all the while. “In fact, I think I’ll follow after you.” She clapped. “Alexa! Play _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star!”_

“ _Playing thematically appropriate children’s lullabye.”_

As the opening instrumentals to _Let’s Get It On_ were replaced by the far more innocent melody (and, let’s face it, _timeless_ ) of the classic lullabye, Celestua hugged her son and started closed her eyes too. Part of her was concerned that she should have at least returned what remained of Luna’s special blend to her before her time in court ended and she freaked the fuck out, but she reasoned with herself that it was totes okay because A) It would only be a two hour nap for her and B) The night still had a lot of steam to blow off, as it was only just now stroking three AM.

Plenty of time, she figured, to sneak the coffee can back into Luna’s room before her sister was any the wiser to the wonders that had transpired in _her_ room

Plenty of time, even, to sneak in a quickie with her _future husband and baby daddy_ if she was lucky.

Celestia snored just as loudly and in the same way as Shooting Star.

Like son, like mother.


	5. Obligatory Sequel Bating (Yes, BATING) With Luna

With a desperate pant, Princess Luna slammed the doors to her room shut behind her, not giving the slightest of shits that doing so jostled her precious cocomoo coffee blend out of her hand so hard that the lid popped and spilled its remaining contents all over her. She then pressed her back against the doors and promptly slid down to the ground with all the frictionlessness and grace of a rock scraping against sandpaper. Her heavy, post-marathon-like breathing did not abate though, nor did her eyes bugging out and appearing as bloodshot as though she’d been awake for hours reading a secret journal of horror till twilight. Something that, though it still distressed her in a terrifying way greatly, was now annoying her more than doing anything else.

“Get a grip, Luna! Get a bucking grip!” she shouted, smacking herself upside her head to get herself focussed and in the game. After the seventy-seventh or so smack, Luna started to get paranoid and stood back up, her spymaster’s instincts screaming at her to check to make sure that the noise insulation spells to her room had not been tampered with since her departure. Once she had completed the magical scan with her horn and determined it to be the case that none of the several spells had been altered in the slightest, she took the first genuinely calming breath she had after turning tail and practically sprinting out of Celestia’s room and teleporting before her own and slid down her doors again, this time collapsing into a fetal position when she did, arms wrapped tightly about her knees which pressed tightly against her chest.

She felt so cold. Even though her dress was enchanted to keep her from feeling any extreme of temperature unless she willed it otherwise and protect her from a menagerie of other things, Luna felt so in the buff, frayed, and afraid. She’d been privy to such a lifetime of pain, and suffering, and horrors, and setbacks, and clawing her way through the mud and the blood to the green fields beyond that even the greatest of equestria heroes of modernity would have snapped a long time ago were they dropped in her boots and forced to read the million miles she had. And Luna had only ever broken down once a millenia ago.

But despite all that, what she had just seen, heard, and _smelt_ in Celestia’s room had broken her too. Such that if ever the choice were presented her between having to relive her life all the way up until she had stepped foot in her sister’s chamber or having to see all that had transpired there again, Luna would have chosen the first option in a bucking heart-beat with no more hesitation than deciding it would be better for her to lose her legs and hooves than her arms and hands.

Luna cried. She cried for a good couple of hours. Maybe not as long as in the days leading up to her transformation into Night Mare Moon or the thousand years she had spent isolated upon the surface of her namesake, but certainly with a far more intense, wraith like sense of loss. And considering how deep her depression ran in those terrible times, that spoke volumes. Volumes Luna would have thought impossible before tonight.

Just like the idea of Celestia fucking and reproducing with Shooting Star.

“How could she do that with him!? TO HIM!? Does she have the foggiest idea what she’s wrought!? To the kingdom!? To the world!? To ME PERSONALLY!?”

She broke down crying again. Ever since she’d arrived back from her lunar sabbatical, her sister and her nephew had openly been her rock, constantly there to hold and support her whenever things looked bleak or she was simply feeling a little blue. Whatever jabs or beef they had that sometimes cropped up between even the most loving of families, she thought the world of them. That no matter what, they’d always be there standing firm against the tides of the zeitgeist as moral paragons as square jawed and straight laced as they came.

And now she knew better and it hurt. The wound cut so deep she could feel it in her soul and several times felt like the heartache would cause her to give up the ghost.

“ _They must be made to pay the price, Luna…”_

A voice, as eerie as it was eerily familiar spoke inside her head, and in a moment, the tears stopped.

“ _Both of them, your sister and her son, must be made to suffer Luna.”_

“You!” Luna shot up to her hooves, looking up and around her room out of instinct even though she knew in her head she’d never find the owner. Not out in the physical world, anyway.

“ _Yes. I.”_

“I thought you banished, confined to the deep, dark crevice you had first been spat from!” Luna declared, having harnessed her sorrow and converted it to wrath.

“ _Oh, sweet summer child, no. You cannot put me back in the box so easily, Luna. Not wholly. For so long as you dare to persist on resisting shuffling off the mortal coil. There will always be some part of me that lingers within your mind. Just as I told you all those years ago on that oh so similarly awful night.”_

“ _If that be so, then kindly buck off and shut up or I’ll be forced to make your stay there most unpleasant! Unless you wish to fall before the might of Twilight and her friends again.”_

“ _Go ahead, Luna. But we both know that’ll never work. My presence in you can only ever be in remission,_ _ **not**_ _eliminated. And even as severely weakened as my hold over you was in this period of peace you’ve enjoyed, they can make me taste the rainbow all they want, but within a single day I will grow back to my present stature with you so cursed with the knowledge you learned this night! Unless, of course, you subject your remaining family to the consequences of their actions and slit their dirty, incestuous--”_

“Shut up! Shut up!”

Like a madmare, Luna began firing off blue beams of magical every which way, hoping less that she’d be able to hit her verbal accoster and more that the sheer, unbridled fury she felt at it, and herself for ever allowing herself to be maneuvered to a position where she let it in in the first place so many moons ago, would just push it back in whatever sordid corner of her mind it had been hiding in and biding its time.

It didn’t work.

And oh boy did it backfire.

Before she knew it her horn stopped firing and she felt her body freeze up, neither two events occurring of her own accord.

“ _It doesn’t have to be you that deals the death-knell, Luna.”_

Her left hand, despite her protests, despite her wrestling with the dark voice with everything she had, slowly moved against her will.

“ _With the evidence you’ve accumulated, that you_ _ **can**_ _accumulate now--”_

Her hand reached betwixt her cleavage and pulled out the tape-recorder.

“ _You could have equestrian society itself rend them limb from limb without having to sully your own hands and nopony being the wiser to your involvement.”_

“ _No! No I… I… I cannot! I cannot do that to them! I cannot sign their own death warrants like that! Cannot be responsible for them hanging from the gallows! I love them! I love them too much!”_

Luna redoubted her efforts, trying to wrest control from the dark voice, trying with all her alicorn might to crush the tape-recorder in her hand to unrecognizable, unsalvageable bits.

Yet her hand did not obey.

“ _Love them? Hmmm… yes. I see now. It’s all so crystal clear.”_

Instead, her thumb slid over the rewind button, pressed it, and then did the same for the play button.

Immediately, her ears were inundated with the sounds of everything Celestia and Shooting Star had gotten up to. _Everything._ Every whip. Every smack. Every moan. Every groan. Every bit of dirty and romantic talk. And ever loud, guttural climax.

And despite her best efforts to feel nothing but sickening sadness and revulsion at what she was hearing again, a heat, an all consuming _fire_ in her flesh she hadn’t felt at all since she had entered adulthood returned with a mighty vengeance. Her cheeks flushed red. Her breath hitched huskily in her throat. Her knees wobbled to jelly, once more putting her on the floor with her back to the doors.

And her pussy, which had been dry for a millenia a couple centuries and some change to drip wet with her arousal yet again.

“ _It appears I was mistaken. In truth, there are_ _ **two**_ _paths you may choose to bury back in your subconscious. For you have turned out just as perverse as your filthy family!”_

Against her will, Luna’s free hand hiked her dress down far enough to expose her black bra which was then brought down to expose her perky dark blue nipples. It then slipped its way into her increasingly moist panties before slipping her three greatest fingers into her slobbering cunt and masturbating her mind to mush.

“Ahhh!” she cried out at the unwanted yet unyielding pleasure.

“ _Good night,”_ the dark voice mocked her. “ _Something tells me that regardless of what you choose, your dreams are only going to get sweeter for me.”_

Luna cummed, her girlish broth rushing out of her in great big spurts, her eyes falling into a deep sheep. Despite this, she still had enough energy for one last scream.

“NOOOOO!”

“ _But for you, they’ll be an utter Night Mare!”_

Luna collapsed in a heap, head striking the tile brusquely.


End file.
